Transformed
by Shamo9
Summary: The meeting of two personalities is like the contact of two chemical substances: if there is any reaction, both are transformed. And just what affect will this transformation have on their surroundings? Team Terabithia is born! A more adult BTT.
1. Proverbial Diamond

Disclaimer: Not mine.

"Transformed"

Chapter 1 - Proverbial Diamond

"The meeting of two personalities is like the contact of two chemical substances: if there is any reaction, both are transformed"

* * *

**25th June 2009**

John McFarlane licked his lips surreptitiously. _Another patient. _He sighed. Getting dragged out of bed in the middle of the night quickly lost its appeal after the first 6 or 7 times. Why couldn't he have been a dentist like his mother wanted? Did they get dragged out of theirs beds at 2am? He harrumphed – unbloody likely!

If John was truthful with himself, it wasn't the time that was bothering him, although in pitch black the car park had a certain mysterious menace to it. It was this mental hospital, or as the world tried to remove the stigma it, the Psychiatric hospital. He was a doctor who disliked hospitals, the irony wasn't lost on him. It wasn't so much the hospital in general but the ward he was specifically entering that troubled his thoughts. The juvenile ward. Call him soft skinned if you will, but John just couldn't stomach treating mentally ill children. The elderly sure, but not fit and healthy children who should be out playing, living their lives, a future to look forward to. John sometimes had nightmares of going to work; finding his next patient was his baby girl. He would wake up in a cold sweat and simply stare outside, all the while assuring his wife that he was alright.

John smiled politely at the young novice secretary. He had remembered her first day; she had been a bundle of nerves, mis-pronouncing names, filing the wrong documents. He was pleased to find that she was settling in now. It was nice to have a few sane people in the old 'loony bin' as it were. John had long since become desensitized with derogatory names such as 'the nut house' or 'the funny farm'. He tried to teach his patients to share his view point as well, it wasn't _their _fault they were like this after all – just a cruel twist of fate.

John grimaced as he fully entered the ward. While the rest of the hospital was embodied with sterile white tiles, the juvenile ward was colorfully painted in blue and green 'soothing colors'. It seemed more like a circus to John, or rather a lie. There was countless epigraphs on the walls with inspirational messages of encouragement. So many smiling faces, happy times – all to hide the truth. Most of these kids would never be happy, they would never live a normal life on the outside. Why did the selfish bastards who decorated the halls have to build their hopes up, leaving him to pick up the pieces? They had had their future cruelly taken away from them, and now they were constantly reminded of this injustice every waking second.

"Sir, you've arrived, thank goodness." That was Simon, his overt politeness irritated him slightly, although it did remind him of when he'd started out himself – believing he could save everyone. How naive he'd been. Still, better to be naive than a cynical old fool.

"Report?" John asked expectantly, holding out his hand. Without a seconds hesitation Simon handed the files to him.

John promptly folded them up and tucked them under his arm. Simon sighed despite himself. "Sir, you really should read those-"

"That's why I have you, Simon. You're better at making judgments than me."

Simon turned crimson under his praise as always. John wasn't lying either, he could delve much more from Simon's words rather than an emotionless piece of paper.

"We don't know his name yet. He's only thirteen we think, but I feel he has a split personality disorder."

"What has lead you to this conclusion?"

"He is almost pathologically shy on first appearance, but when we left him, well, better you see the recordings for yourself."

"What was he officially reported in for?"

Simon looked genuinely surprised. "Sir, have you not seen the news?"

"It's 2am, I was a bit preoccupied sleeping, Simon."

Simon halted, his mannerisms grave. John began to get a familiar sinking feeling in his stomach. What could it possible be to have been reported on the news?

"It's the school in the Lark Creek area. He burned it."

"Burned it?"

"...To the ground; arson," Simon gulped, feeling lightheaded. "The police haven't revealed it yet."

"What! Haven't revealed what?!"

Simon looked directly at him, eyes downcast. "The casualties."

John breathed, only now taking in the seriousness of what they were now dealing with. "My God..."

* * *

**25th June 2008**

The sun was blaring down relentlessly; Jess quickly wiped the perspiration from his brow without halting in his pursuit of Scott Hoager. His feet felt like lead on the unfamiliar tarmac. As he looked down to check that they were still attached, Jess suddenly received a disconcerting image of his trainers dissolving in the heat.

He recalled good old "Monster Mouth Myers" showing the class an image of someone suffering trench foot...but he was sure that was caused by dampness. He shuddered, not only at remembering the effects of trench foot, but at the possibility that Myers was entering his subconscious. Lord, he was definitely losing it.

Despite the weather; Jess had a smile on his face. He realized that it wasn't all bad after all. School would be over tomorrow. Seven weeks of freedom from that prison adults liked to call a "school"...he would smile to that any day. While Myers warning about increased chances of catching skin cancer in the summer, was certainly frightening, he suspected that she got a treacherous pleasure in scaring her classes witless on a daily basis.

"Keep up Aarons, we're almost there."

Hoager's words brought Jess back to earth as he almost lost his balance. He frowned at the blurred form of Hoager in front of him. Easy for him to say riding a bike!

Nonetheless, Jess increased his pace to catch up with Hoager. As he ran, all he could think about was the heat. The heat, well, it was uncomfortable to say the least. Jess could feel the sweat falling down his face, occasionally wincing when the sweat touched his eyes. He could not afford to wipe his face, using every limb possible to propel himself closer to Scott, who seemed like a ghost in the heat, the very air halting before him. It felt like the very rays of the sun were pushing him to the ground. He stuck his tongue out, the way Miss Bessie liked to do as she slept - which was most of the time. What he wouldn't give for some rain.

Seeing the heat visible distill the air in front of him. Jess imagined it was the beginning of a mirage. There was something bewitching about the way the air visible floated and rippled in the heat. Like the air was heavy, sticky - affected by the heat in similar ways to Jess. It reminded him of water. Jess would have almost believed, at that moment, he was underwater, being transported to a far a way undersea magical kingdom...well, if not for the very evident and magic bereft pain in his feet.

He shook his head, somewhat angrily. Lord, Jesse Aarons, soon to be a 6 grader, dreaming of underwater kingdoms. When would he ever grow up? He looked at the painfully blue sky, devoid of any protection from clouds and wondered, what would his father think of him?

Jess had always been a loner. The weird kid that liked to draw. That's what he was to everyone. He accepted that, probably even preferred it. Jess had no earthly desire to be popular; even taking the plunge as a teacher's pet wasn't appealing to Jess...heavens no. Those were either bullies like Janice Avery, or, god forbid, Wonda Kay – the prissiest girl in school, never mind 5th grade.

He certainly didn't want to be another "follower" of the supposed "cool kids". Whose main activity consisted of following around Willard Hughes etc like a lost sheep, with regular intervals consisting of smoking behind the bike sheds in a desperate attempt to look tough. The one thing that he did envy from them, just one thing,...they were respected – a lot. And, well, he'd like a little respect. Jesse Oliver Aarons could settle for that. Respect. Or at least his father could...

When Scott Hoager, another outside much like himself, had approached him. It had immediately got his attention rather than a thousand lectures from Myers. He hadn't known quite what to make of Hoager before. Despite being a loner, he was very athletic and had joined many of the school sports teams. An area that was strictly regulated, sometimes quite _forcefully_, by Willard Hughes and his "followers". While not fully entering the circle ruled by the older years, he had gained their respect for his talents. Now that was something Jess respected.

Naturally, when Scott had asked Jess if he wanted to "hang out at break", Jess had accepted. So, here he was, three weeks later, following him to lord knows where. Jess had been grateful to Scott for giving him the time of day; despite the consequences of falling behind on his chores, he had enjoyed a whole new world.

He'd had friends before, of course, or at least what people considered friends. Amiable relatives and interesting teachers. Not found lacking in parents or in siblings either. Indeed, if anyone merely spared a glance at Jess, loneliness would be the last thing that came to their mind. Yet that was how he felt. Alone.

He had so many ideas, aspirations and dreams – he was like a shaken soda can, just waiting to burst. But yet despite the friends, teacher, relatives, siblings and parents. He truly had no one to share it with, no one who understood. He thought it might be something to do with Lark Creek. That the longer he stayed here, the harder it would be to leave. He was ostracized and contained in Lark Creek. Trapped in Lark Creep.

He'd tried writing in a diary, but that was a pale imitation. He felt like Wanda Kay, portentously spouting ideas to an unwillingly listener, not caring for anyone's opinion but their own. There was times when Jess felt nothing, no desire to carry on, nothing. What was the point? He'd often fade away into the background, a mere extra, as Brenda and Ellie argued or Joyce Ann cried. Jess was not brazen enough to believe that he could truly call Scott, or "Hoager" as he preferred to be called, a friend yet. Although now, he was more desperate than ever to connect with someone. Anyone. He couldn't be alone in the world could he? He would show Scott his true self...he had no alternative.

By now Jess felt so drenched in sweat, he considered the possibility of asking his mother for that old waterproof jacket Brenda grew out of. Pity it's pink, Jess thought with chagrin. Why did everything have to be pink in his house?

His muscles felt cramped and he had a desire to scratch – everywhere - until he bled. Jess recalled having a similar urge when he was suffering from chicken pocks. The urge to scratch was so intense that his mother resorted to making an oatmeal bath for him. "Concerned" that the oatmeal might clog up the drain. Brenda had suggested that he have the bath outside in the bucket Miss Bessie used for her excrement. The humiliation.

"Hoager, ho- how far-" Jess wanted to continue but his throat was so dry, his voice came out hoarse.

"Not far," was the reply from Hoager, Jess rolled his eyes. That helps_, _he thought sarcastically.

He looked away from Hoager, gazing at his surroundings but he was running so fast, everything was a blur of speed and heat. Or maybe that was heat exhaustion kicking in.

Regardless, the scenery was gloriously unspectacular. A suburban neighborhood with perfectly trimmed lawns and matching paint jobs on the semi detached houses. The odd plant or gnome seemed like a desperate last ditch effort by the owner to say 'hey, look at me, I'm special'.

The painful similarity between the houses gave Jess the impression that he wasn't actually going anywhere. It was a hideous feeling, enough to make him appreciate his own house. Jess was intrigued as in to how the residents knew which house was there's. His house had character. He felt a small amount of pride.

Well, if he ignored the creaks and groans the house emitted at night, and the way it had a habit of swaying slightly to the left in a heavy breeze. _Yes. Yes_, Jess concluded. All those imperfections gave it a life of its on. On that day, Jess decided that character was his favorite word.

Well, so much for the scenery then; Jess turned back to find Scott Hoager with an alarming lead. As Scott turned off into another street, Jess suddenly thought the other boy might hide from him, disappear down an alley and hide from him forever. It was a crazy thought, but Jess could not shake the fear of it. Rather than shout for Scott to slow down and look like a fool. Jess increased his pace franticly by leaping at almost every step. _Wait for me, Scott. Wait for me!_ When he turned the corner Jess was relived to find that Scott had eased his pace somewhat.

They had to be getting closer. Jess was desperate. The whole journey had and was murderous on his feet, but Jess gritted his teeth and thought of the one thing that would always cheer him up.

The one thing that Jess truly loved to do, above all else, was draw. Jess was never as content as when he had a pen in his hand. Come to think of it, he was content with any writing device in his hand, not that he could afford much but still...that was him. For that golden shining moment, when Jess put pen to canvas, he could create anything, do anything. The feeling he got was impossible to describe, and it would be a disservice to the feeling to even try to.

The difficulty Jess experienced, was that there was no possible way for him to convey that in words to someone, anyone. He felt trapped, alone, a stranger in his own home. If he was honest with himself, he was afraid. Afraid of rejection. Jess recalled vividly his fathers reaction in second grade. He himself had been filled with uncontrollable joy, his first drawing. In a scene eerily reminiscent of May Belle in later years, he had rushed home, eager to invite his father into his world. Drawing in hand, his world had changed as he watched his fathers reaction. He hadn't said anything, but he knew, somethings were just best left unsaid.

Hoager stopped abruptly and Jess nearly toppled into him.

"Watch it Aarons," he said simply as he dismounted.

"Sorry, Sco-"

"I told you not to call me that!" Hoager snapped; he turned with an aggressive suggestion before pushing his bike toward a derelict driveway. Jess shook his head in amazement. Wondering why Scott would consider being called by his first name a bigger irritant than almost getting knocked down, and people called him weird!

"Is this it", Jess was unable to hide his disappointment. Hoager either didn't notice or ignored it; he approached what seemed like an ordinary, run-of-the-mill house. He had run straight from school for this? Hoager approached the house confidently but instead of heading for the front door, he tapped on, what Jess assumed, was the garage . Jess heard a muffled "it's open" from inside. Hoager immediately lifted the garage door before the voice had finished. Jess was confronted with his P.E teacher bent over; working on what he assumed was his car. O_h lord_. Torturous memories of doge ball and dance class came rushing back to Jess.

"Hi, Mr Gotenburg." It seemed polite, but Jess had been around Brenda and Ellie enough to know that there was something behind it, in the very tone, that made it feel like a...threat. The voice immediately got the teachers attention; he wiped his hands on a cloth before vigorously shaking Hoager's hand, much to Hoagers displeasure. Feeling terrible awkward, hands firmly in his pockets just in-case, Jess looked around. The garage seemed like an amalgamation of all the things Gotenburg had picked up in life. Anything from china pots to comic books were bed partners here. Mum, would die if she saw this.

"Well, if it isn't my team captain. The fastest 5th grader this side of America I say, everyday of the we-"

"Thank you," Hoager interrupted contently, as if he got this every week.

Taken aback slightly but regaining his composure, Mr Gotenburg asked, "what can I do for my favorite champion"?

"Oh sorry, this isn't about me today, this is about Aarons, " Hoager nodded in Jesse's direction.

Gotenburg's face visible fell. Feelings mutual, Jess thought savagely.

"He hasn't been causing you any...trouble, has he?" Gotenburg scrutinized Jess, who had a feeling that he came up short in his estimation.

"Aarons here, wants to join the school sprinting team," Hoager spoke slowly and purposefully, as if he really wanted to be understood. Gotenburg's mouth formed a comical "o" of bewilderment. Hoager pressed on undeterred,

"We have a free space on the team with Sidly moving school. Jess(he seemed to choke on the word) seems like the best candidate."

Lord, you could see Gotenburg trying to think of a reason, any reason, to say no. Jess was too shocked to contribute. The sprinting team. What was Hoager thinking? Eventually the sway of Hoager weakened Gotenburg sufficiently. Being the golden boy had its perks after all.

Gotenburg finally turned to Jess as a last resort. "You sure you want this – eh, what was your name again? Oh right, Jess. Well, the sprinting team, you know...it ain't no walk in th' park, ya hear?"

"Well I suppose I could-"

"No wait, there's more," Hoager interrupted again...he has a habit of doing that, Jess pondered.

"Aarons here, is the resident artist in Lark Creek, backed up by me." He wrapped his arm around Jess for emphasis. Neither Gotenburg, nor Jess, saw where he was going with this. Jess swatted Hoager's arm away with a gusto.

"I thought you said you'd keep it a secret?" Jess accused scandalized. Sure, most kids in Lark Creek knew, it was a small town after all; he didn't want – or need - every teacher on his back as well, though. Hoager wiped faux dust off his t shirt where Jess had pushed him.

"I said, I would make it better, Jess, and I am. Mr Gotenburg(he turned to him), remember on the bus back from the state championships?" Gotenburg nodded so Hoager continued,

"You spoke about your brother, and how proud you were of him. Specif-ically(Hoager stumbled over the word), his new job, as the director of media at the...National Art...eh... Museum", he said it, more in hope than expectation it seemed to Jess.

"I remember." Although Gotenburg looked anything but proud to Jess.

Hoager moved his hands across the rough wallpaper in the garage as he continued, "well, since Jess is so...eager. Perhaps if we do well, you give your brother a call, sound fair". It wasn't a question as much as a demand. The rest of the conversation went on just as oddly; they struck a deal that if Lark Creek won the championship next term, Jess would meet with Gotenburg's brother.

Mr Gotenburg excused himself when Mrs Gotenburg called for dinner, so Hoager and Jess said their goodbyes before leaving the cesspit. As they left, Jess wondered why Gotenburg had refused to meet Jess' eyes.

"That went well, don't you think, Aarons." Hoager looked suitable smug with himself.

"You could have told me, you know."

Hoager shrugged, "Nah, you would've just acted funny."

"Do you really expect me to...race?"

"Eh, well, we've got a good team. You should be fine, I guess."

"That's comforting," Jess said sarcastically. Hoager nodded distractedly.

As Hoager stopped to close the garage door, Jesse's mind was still buzzing with questions.

"What do you expect me to do... with this meeting? Lord, I won't know the first thing to say." Jess' sentence was punctuated by the garage door closing with a bang.

"Just- I don't know, talk about art stuff. You know the whole, someone to understand me, gig. Maybe get a job."

"Why now?"

Hoager gave Jess a look that was a mixture of confusion and exasperation.

"I mean, couldn't we have gone...I don't know... in the summer holidays?"

Scott made a show of picking up his bike as if he was stalling for time. "It's Thursday," he said, as if that explained it all.

"So?"

"..."

"Hoager!"

Eventually, Scott mumbled something about Gotenburg's mood being much milder on Thursdays, on account of this being his day off. It was a blatant lie, Jess just couldn't figure out why he would lie over something as trivial as Mr Gotenburg. Scott was obviously adamant about not yielding and had "decided" to take Jess to "Ego"; the community club a couple of streets away, as a cease fire of sorts.

"You've been to the club before, haven't ya?"

"Y-yeah, of course, a couple of times." _No_!

* * *

Jess lived "in the middle of nowhere" or so he presumed. The closest house in his area was the old "Perkins place" and that had been deserted for years. Jess had no idea why it was called "Perkins"; in an attempt to scare him, Brenda had concocted a far fetched tale about an entire family drowning in the creek, their bodies then hung, for no apparent reason, from a nearby tree as a warning. This seemed like a ridiculous notion to Jess, considering the creek only went up to his waist, but it had scared him initially when he was younger.

The last residents had lasted half a year, Jess couldn't even recall their names, it had been so long ago. The only people who ever ventured into Lark Creek now, were those who simply wanted to run away from the world. Although in the past few years that had been increasing slightly. _Must be a crappy __world if people want to run to Lark Creek._

The "Ego" was certainly not in the middle of nowhere...but he did want to run away. Jess had never seen so many people crammed into one place, and that was saying something considering he went to Lark Creek Elementary. The lighting was dark, so it was impossible to see anything over 2 feet away from him. Jess felt maddeningly conspicuous - sticking his hands out dumbly, so as not to bump into anyone. It was disconcerting not being able to put voices to faces, and it seemed to Jess that he was being bombarded with shouts as the music reverberated against the walls. Half the people knew Scott and Jess felt dizzy with the welcome. "Hey, Hoager!" "Hi there, H" "What up, S.H" "About time, Hoager".

The sounds of computer scorekeepers, electronic voices – beep beep beep-, pong pong pong, mixed with a repetitive techno music that seemed like the heartbeat of the entire club. Jess heard half-shouted conversations and girls' happy screams. He could smell food rather than see any and, lord, he hoped that was just mince pie he stepped on. Assaulted by this violent, aggressive and relentless crescendo, he became claustrophobic. He kept a hold of the nearest wall as he followed Hoager, as if he was a budding swimmer who had just been thrown into the deep end. He felt like an alien, a being from a distant world, trapped on a primitive planet, caught in a mob of hostile, screeching, gibbering, barbaric, loathsome natives. Hoager had offered Jess multiple drinks but as the night wore on, it became easier for Jess to distract him. He'd taken one out of curiosity but after the burning sensation he felt in his throat, he'd managed to "forget" his glass on a counter.

Remarkably, time seemed to be in his favor. For it felt like no time at all before they had left the leviathan. Jess felt a strange sensation; his ears popping as they readjusted to the serenity of the outside. He was sorely tempted to kiss the ground and beg for forgiveness.

"That was a blast wasn't it, Daren," Hoager smiled as he wobbled out of the club, neon lights silhouetting his form.

Jess didn't know if it was just stress or relief that it was all over but he smiled back. "I think I remember being called, Jess," grinning despite himself he continued,

"It was okay, I guess. Well, 'part from that guy falling in his own vomit...that was just, eurgh," he grimaced with playful distaste. Hoager shrugged, as if it was no big deal. It probably wasn't to him Jess thought dryly.

He stood for a moment, as Hoager unchained his bike and took in that beautiful summer breeze... Jess felt time stop. That...cold summer breeze. Jess looked up, up at the sky. Dark. Stars. Moon. Oh lord, he had not wanted time to move that fast!

"We need to get going," he demanded of Hoager as he waited, now impatient, for Scott to unchain his stupid bike.

"Huh, oh right, yeah hurry," Hoager's key slipped from his grasp. Scott fell to his knees grasping aimlessly in the dark.

"Damn it, Scott!" Jess slapped his forehead in frustration.

"Name's Hoager!"

"Hurry up!"

"You're not the boss of me." Hoager's objections were muffled by the street bench he was now under.

Frustrated and worried he might hit him. Jess moved away, always careful to keep in the light of the street lamp. He noticed that the Lamppost seemed to be emitting a quaint foreign noise. He pricked his ears and moved in closer. Was that, no. Jess heard a cry of what seemed like...pain. What was that? He turned 360 but couldn't see anything.

"Hoager, do you hear that?" Not waiting for a reply, Jess followed the cries as they grew louder. He heard vague chanting which sounded like "night". Oblivious to anything else, he followed the noise, like a moth to the flame.

"Aaron's, stop," Jess was surprised to see that Scott had risen from under the bench and was now holding onto Jesse's shirt. Had he been that distracted? He looked into Scott's eyes, was that fear?

Undeterred, he surprised even himself by following the noise into what seemed to be an alleyway between two buildings. Too curious to be afraid, he crept inside, feeling an inexplicable desire to keep quiet, he rounded a dumpster that contained lord-knows-what with extra caution. Without any light to aid him, Jess scrunched up his eyes and struggled to make out shapes in the dark. Finally, he caught a glimpse of a... group of boys, a couple of years older than him, he guessed. They were kicking what Jess could only assume was a football but as he looked closer. No! It was a boy... he couldn't be sure but he seemed about his age, from what he could see.

Said boy was curled up into a fetal position, and it had been his cries that had attracted Jesse's attention. The boy was no longer crying out, however, merely weeping in pain when one of the thugs hit a vulnerable point. They group of boys were merciless, savagely desecrating the boy. They were erratic, primal – like a pack of bloodthirsty wolves. The alleyway was narrow and straight. There was no possible way for the boy to run. They blocked him at every angle.

Every fiber in Jesse's being screamed to help the poor boy...but he couldn't move. Terrified and frozen to the spot, he was sure he saw the glint of a knife in one of the boy's hands. He bit his tongue from crying out; he could only watch.

"Please, no, stop- I- can't- I'm sorry," the boy continued to plead. The thugs seemed to stop as they backed off slightly. The bloodied boy on the ground, looked up – hope in his eyes- before they began their assault again, this time tearing at the boys clothes searching for any valuables. One boy took what looked to Jess like a ring. He felt sick, dirty. Like this very event was contaminating him.

"No! You can't take that, it's my Mum's," the boys yells went up ten fold, to the point where he was screaming, begging, crazed and wild. Dignity forgotten, he wailed and flung himself at the many hands that were pillaging him, biting and scratching. Jess wanted him to stop...the, screaming, it was...

"Look at the punk kid, telling us what to do. You think, you're better than us, huh," the boy punctuated his statement with a blow to the boy's face that made Jess cringe.

Jess wanted to retch, he couldn't stand it! He turned...and bumped into a garbage can. For one heart stopping moment, Jess actually thought he might catch that _damn_ can as it fell. He was too slow; it landed on the dirty concrete. HARD. The noise reverberated off the walls of the alley; Jess closed his eyes in a silent pray. Everyone was silent as the impact of the can echoed in the air.

"Quick, could be cops. Let's bail!"

Jess heard loud footsteps retreat from the scene, thankfully in the opposite direction to him. He only dared to open his eyes, when nothing but the echo remained. They were gone. Jess breathed a sigh of relief. He looked down at the the guilty garbage can with something akin to murder in his eyes. He was about to crush it under his trainer when he heard a sniff. Of course, the boy. Jess had forgotten about him. Turning warily, still afraid the thugs would jump on him any second, he approached the human heap of torn clothes, tears and blood. No lecture from Myers could have prepared him for this.

"Are you...okay?" Jess cursed his own stupidity. Say something, Jess he urged himself.

Miraculously, the boy didn't seem to be too hurt. He had some nasty looking bruises that would be shiners tomorrow, his clothes were a bit ragged but Jess had certainly seen worse...and worn worse for that matter! The blood made it seem worse than it really was, a small gash to the side of the head. Jess was amazed it could produce so much blood. He offered a tissue to the boy to clean up, the boy didn't respond so Jess clumsily left it beside him. He didn't know what to do. He merely stared at the boy, hoping he'd somehow find some kind of instruction, by looking at him. It hit him.

As Jess truly looked at the boy cradling his head in his arms, really looked at him, not around him. He realized words were insufficient. In a moment of clarity, Jess sat beside the boy, slowly – making sure he was comfortable. The boy had been stripped of his dignity, and now he needed time to get it back. He didn't know how long he sat there, staring at the opposing wall, while the boy beside him moved ever so slowly, as if he was testing himself. Finally, he spoke,

"I only wanted to go home."

Jess turned slightly, wondering if he would elaborate.

"They wanted me to try their...booze. Needed to stop being a pussy. I- I only wanted to go home," he repeated numbly. It seemed to Jess as if the boy was detached, like he was talking about someone else. Jess didn't dare interrupt the boy as he repeated his mantra "I only wanted to go home". Jess felt, somehow, the boy needed to speak. To accept. Eventually the boy became silent, but his words hung in the air.

Feeling like he had to say something, but not sure what, "I'm Jess."

The boy looked confused for a second before responding, "Rodney."

The boy looked around, as if he had forgotten how he ended up here. Jess tried to keep him talking. "Well, nice to meet you, Rodney."

"Yeah, fantastic."

Jess winced at the boys tone, his bitterness was palpable. He really wished there was a manual for this stuff. The boy was getting to his feet now, albeit slowly. He seemed to be looking for something on the ground.

"What did they take?" His question met only silence.

"I can help"

The boy didn't answer until he had finished his fruitless search. He seemed reluctant to speak. As if naming it would confirm that it was gone. "It was my mum's... it was, it was her wedding ring."

"She gave you her, her wedding ring?" Jess couldn't imagine his own mum doing such a thing.

Rodney gave Jess a look of terrible anger...and pain. "She's...gone."

Jess felt like he'd been shrunk a few sizes. "Oh, I'm sorry – about your mum I mean. I, well, I don't know what to say." What could he possible say?

Rodney spoke again, this time so lightly, Jess thought he was talking to himself more than anyone, "Now, they're both gone."

Jess lowered his head in shame. "I should have helped, I should have at least tried, I could've but, I just – I was scared," he confessed. Rodney's face softened slightly and for the first time he met Jesse's eyes when he looked up.

"Nah, it wasn't your fault. They had knifes." Although he tried to smile in reassurance, his tone betrayed him. Jess had to admit, you'd have to be crazy not to sound a little bitter after just being beaten up.

"Who carries knifes around with them anyway?" Jess inquire, hoping to strike conversation now he had the boy's attention.

"Heck, everyone does it now don't they, for protection you see, where have you been living, a cave?"

"I don't usually come this far into town...those guys didn't look like they needed knifes for protection," Jess added as an afterthought.

"Them, they're nothing but thugs. All it takes is someone to stick up to them." At those words, Jess had a sick feeling in his gut that he had done something wrong. It didn't feel real, he'd imagined, well not really imagined, but, come on, he'd expected crying or shouting...at least something. Yet, Rodney seemed to be acting so...normal. Maybe, this is just a different way of coping

"Jess." Rodney stated with a tone of finality. He didn't offer hands, merely turning away roboticly. Jess opened his mouth to stop him, then thought better of it. Remembering what had been said earlier, he found himself speaking, not fully sure why.

"Why're you not carrying a knife?" he said to Rodney's back.

Rodney did not turn, didn't even stop walking. He was almost completely engulfed by the night when he answered, "I want to make her proud of me."

Jess was in no doubt as to the "who" he was referring to.

Jess stood there for a moment. Staring in the direction Rodney had left. He felt like he had to almost...well, pay his respects. He wished he could've had a re run, a second chance to go through the scenario again. Maybe get it right. Jess pushed his hair away from his face. Hopefully he'd never have to go through that again. Hopefully.

After a time, Jesse moved. Having no desire to stand in a dark alley, begging to be mugged, Jess walked briskly. When he returned to the entrance of "Ego" and found no sign of Scott, nor another sign of him ever being there, he began to panic. Jess turned to the obtrusive front lights of the club. He knew one thing. He was not going to go back in there. Scott wouldn't really abandon him, would he? Not even daring to think about the fact that he had no earthly idea how to get home from here.

Jess wasn't sure if he should stay and wait in the small chance that Hoager might show up, or start walking somewhere, anywhere. Deciding that even if he was lost, it was better not to act like he was. He walked in the direction he remembered coming. Jess hadn't really been paying attention to the scenery when they had come into town. Jess had been too focused on merely not losing sight of Scott. Besides, they had come from school, that was a good few miles from his house to begin with. Any scenery he had managed to glimpse wasn't exactly distinctive enough to remember.

If anything the street lights made him feel worse. At least in the dark he remained unseen. He was used to it now considering where he lived. It could get dark pretty fast in the middle of nowhere. The artificial light made him feel like he was in the spotlight. An easy target. He tried to laugh it off, but it was like whistling in a graveyard. Jess imagined the thugs, and how far it might have gone. Would he have just stood there? Gazing like a, like a - well he didn't know what, but it would definitely be bad. He was half expecting them to jump on him any second. He couldn't resist looking behind every so often, afraid at what he might find. The first people he encountered were beggars sleeping on steps entering a closed shop. He was careful not to disturb them, for they looked much more frightening when you were alone at night.

He was trying to remain calm but when he couldn't even read the dumb map at a bus station for lack of light; he considered simply finding a "comfortable" spot and holding out till daylight, like the beggars. Even if he did somehow find out the way home. He wasn't sure his muscles could take the strenuous journey home without rest, and he certainly didn't have any money for a cab. Or food for that matter, his stomach reminded him.

Jess felt his head get lighter; he noticed almost vicariously, that he was sweating, and it wasn't even hot. Drawing inspiration from the beggars, he studied the steps that were entrances to buildings he crossed.

"Too wet," Jess decided quickly as he moved on, rejecting 'Boots' sorry excuse for steps.

Over the course the of the next 10 minutes. Jess tried numerous steps similar to what the beggar's had been sleeping on. He stopped testing them after he sat, rather ungracefully, on left over chewing gum. Mourning his ruined pants, and the rollicking he'd get from his mother, he decided to trust his eyes.

"Too bumpy," Jess decided of 'M and S'. As he approached the next step, he took one glance and walking briskly past it. He might be desperate but he didn't fancy sharing a bed with half-eaten burgers, flies, dirty needles and those dire toys that 'McDonald's' imagined kids actually wanted. The only time they'd ever came in handy was when May Belle had been teething. Jesse's tiredness increased just by remembering the sleepless nights he had suffered at the hands of May Belle. He had been even more delighted when Joyce Ann had joined the party.

"The babies of the family," his mother had called them. Jess cringed on impulse. Finally, much to his surprise, he found steps that met his approval. The second step was a bit crocked but he'd make do. He should make a career of this. Jess hadn't realized how tired he really was until he almost collapsed on the steps. They seemed to welcome him to a block of flats. The irony wasn't lost on him. What he wouldn't give to be back in his own bed, squeaky mattress and all.

Considering the heat wave, temperature wasn't a problem - even at night. Jess tried to lay his whole body on the steps, but he was too tall to lay straight without being bent like an accordion.

'_Now there's a first'_ Jess thought sardonically.

The steps were also made of stone; which didn't help in regards to comfort. He ended up readjusting himself into a sitting position, with his head leaning on the door to the apartments. Jess hoped he didn't roll onto the street while sleeping...he was a very fidgety sleeper after all. As he thought of the people in the apartment, families, couples, siblings. He wondered about his own family; specifically what they were doing right now. It was a week day, so he imagined his father wasn't even home yet. Brenda, would probably be forced to milk Miss Bessie in his stead. Although he imagined Brenda would probably convince May Belle to do it. She worshiped the ground Jesse walked on, so any attempt to help him would be taken diligently. It was quite annoying really. Brenda was too crafty for her own good. Jess took off his school bag, placing it at his feet, while silently cursing the fact that he had already eaten the entirety of his lunch. He chuckled self-deprecatingly, at least he had had discovered his new profession – step gazing.

He shook his head, how had it come to this?, Jess wondered how he would talk his way out of the whole mess. When he went home tomorrow, his mother would be liable to roast him for dinner, never mind his Dad. He might get away with saying he went to bed early. His mother might fall for that, considering her preoccupation with Joyce Ann and the cleaning. He was quiet anyway. Certainly easy not to notice for a night. Lord, Brenda, herself made enough noise for the both of them. There was only one major hole in that plan. May Belle. The dumb kid couldn't keep her mouth shut if her life depended on it. Particular in issues involving himself. He chuckled humorlessly as he remembered all the times he had caught May Belle following him around. Lord, he couldn't even go pee half the time. A large hoot from a passing car broke his reverie. Despite having what at best was a dysfunctional family. As he looked up at the sky, strange creatures howling in the night, the sheer magnitude of stars. Almost beyond his imagination. As he sat there. His arms wrapped around his body protectively. He realized, he missed them.

The experience of sleeping outside reminded Jess of the great adventures he used to have while camping with his Dad. He found himself laughing uproariously at the memory of his Dad's futile attempts at starting a camp fire.

"Natural is the only way to go. None o' them cheap matches or portable electrics. That's the easy way out. This is all we need, real men, you and I," he had spoken with an indefatigable belief whilst he began rubbing twigs together. It had taken hours for him to swallow his pride and bring out a match from his wallet. He mumbled expletives as the twigs seemed to instantly set a light. It had taken him even longer to get over his sour mood. Staring off into the distance, not even willing to look at the fire, never mind take its warmth. The smell of burning marshmallows had been enough to knock him out of his catatonic state.

He delighted in beginning another speech on "the real mans way to burn marshmallows". Jess recalled how he had merely rolled his eyes and snuggled next to his father. He had never felt more secure in his life. It suddenly seemed to get colder.

It brought back memories of when he had used to wrestle with his Dad. How he longed for that, to show his father how strong he'd grown in the past few years. He imagined the pride radiating off of his father's face as he said to anyone who cared to listen,

"That's my son. What a great man he's turning into," his father would say with reverence in his heart

But that was long ago, before the new job kept him away most of the time. Before May Belle and Joyce Ann had stolen him from Jess. A sudden revelation hit him. He was far too old for those juvenile games anymore. Silly really. Jess remembered Rodney's strength when talking of his dead mother. It was humbling.

He puffed out his chest in an attempt to display his own independence. Despite his denial, it was those memories that he kept with him as he began to fall into an uneasy slumber.

* * *

Not long after; he sensed movement inside the block of apartments, too tired to care he merely leaned his head back a bit more to be supported by the door and...

"Wha-!" he gasped in shock; more startled than in pain as his head fell through space before hitting – was that a shoe? He looked up comically, it couldn't be.

"Miss... Edmunds?"

"Jess, w-what on earth."

Both Miss Edmunds and Jess shared a similar expression of befuddlement. Jess opened his mouth, realized he was lying on Miss Edmund's feet, closed his mouth and blushed in embarrassment as he sat up. She had her trusted guitar strapped to her back – which she claimed was "an extension of herself"- just like in school, but that was where the similarities ended. She had obviously gone to great effort with her appearance, Miss Edmunds was wearing a fitting black dress, which complimented her slender legs. She had always been slightly taller than Jess, much to his chagrin, but with the addition of high heels, Jess found himself really looking up at her. Spotless white gloves covered her otherwise bare arms, and her black hair had been set into curls. Her eyes seemed slightly red and puffy to Jess but he was distracted by the most surprising thing of all. Miss Edmunds was wearing make up. Not just on her eyes either. Suffice to say, Jess prayed he wasn't drooling. Maybe it was just the circumstance but she looked even more beautiful to Jess, if that were possible. Jess wanted to say something witty, dashing, chivalrous. Maybe comment on how utterly divine she looked.

Instead, Jess demonstrated his masterful control of the English language with the cultured statement, "...huh."

After her initial shock, Miss Edmunds smiled at Jess in that special way of hers, that made him feel invincible and yet immensely weak at the same time...if it were possible, Jesse's face went a darker shade of red.

"Why, Jess...I thought you enjoyed my classes, but sleeping on my doorstep. I'm touched."

Jess tried to laugh at her joke, but it came out as more of a squeak.

"Are you okay, Jess. You really shouldn't be out at this time, especially on a school night. I want you bright and alert for music tomorrow...(she took a look at the disheveled state of the young boy)You aren't in any trouble, are you?"

Touched by the concern in her eyes more than he would ever admit, he shook his head in the negative.

"I'm with, well, I was with Scott Hoager," he then told her a slightly abbreviated story of how he'd gotten into this mess, he deliberately missed out the alleyway with the group of thugs, he wasn't sure why though. Miss Edmunds listened patiently till the very last word before springing into action.

"Come on then, I'm taking you home." Miss Edmunds walked past Jess and motioned for him to follow. Noticing that he wasn't very reactive and having a good idea why, she added.

"Look Jess, I'm not your mother. I'm pleased you felt enough of me to talk about your problems, but I won't force my opinions on you unless asked first. And if you really want my opinion, I think you should go home. Its been rough day, for you and me both, and your family is most likely worried sick."

"You won't tell my parents will you, please. My Dad would kill me!"

"I hardly think your father woul-"

"You don't understand, I just... I promise I won't ever do it again, never. Just please, don't tell them!" He would have gone on his hands and knees if he wasn't already sitting on his backside.

Miss Edmunds looked like she was struggling with herself. Weighing up her duties as a teacher and a confidant. Jesse's heart was currently residing in his mouth as he didn't dare breath. Miss Edmunds sighed deeply, _a good kid_, she'd made her choice.

"You don't seem to be in any immediate danger, so against my better judgment, I'll let this slide. Just... don't make a habit of this, okay?"

"Definitely!" Lord, make a habit of this! He'd be dead before he reached his 13th birthday.

"Glad that's settled. Now, where did I leave my car, I wonder." Miss Edmunds walked past him into the darkness so Jess picked up his bag and followed close behind.

* * *

Jess held his bag in his lap as he strapped himself in, riding shot gun.

"So only one slight problem," Miss Edmunds said cheerfully as she strapped herself in. "Where exactly do you live, Jess?"

Jess looked at Miss Edmunds, then looked outside at the dark foreboding landscape filled with unfamiliar buildings..._this could take a while_.

It took a while. The car was filled with dead ends and varying themes of "I think we should have turned left". The air surrounding the car was filled with arms gesticulating and head scratching but eventual, finally, Jess and Miss Edmunds found themselves outside Jesse's drive way.

"Ah, finally," her voice was light and bubbly, but it soon took on a more serious tone. "You should really talk to your parents about this."

"As if that ever worked before."Jess was almost frightened with the bitterness in his own voice.

"Tell me about it, my parents were absolut- hey, look at me alienating my own students against their parents. I'll get the sack in no time!" Miss Edmund's voice was full of mirth but Jess was horrified at the very notion.

"They can't sack you, you're the best teacher Lark Creek ever had!"

"Oh, now I know you're having me own. I only work part time," she paused for a moment thinking. "Hey, maybe that's it. Teachers should only be dealt on small doses." They laughed for a while as Jess savored the moment. He couldn't help but feel dizzy as he unbuckled his seat beat. Here he was, with Miss Edmunds..in her car!

Miss Edmunds handed Jess something that had fallen out of his back. It was his notebook. She knew it too. "I expect to see some more masterpieces soon. You're a smart kid, Jess. More than you know. The proverbial diamond in the rough."

As Jess exited the car, Miss Edmunds continued, "Just...remember to say "no" sometimes, okay?"

Jess was ecstatically pleased. He'd never really had a great relationship with adults in general. To be treated as an equal. Whether sincere or not, Miss Edmunds actually seemed to cared, and was willing to listen.

As Jess walked round the car to get to his house, he felt obligated to say something. _Come on, Jess, now's your chance!_

"Miss Edmunds, why are you wearing that dress?"

"Hey, teachers can do the girl thing too"

"No, I meant. You look...eh, nice, I guess, oh, and thank you for the lift."

"It was my honor, Jess – I expect to see you tomorrow, with drawings in hand." Miss Edmunds frowned with mock sternness although her eyes, always her eyes, were silently laughing.

"Yes, Miss."

"Oh, please don't call me that, Jess. I feel old enough as it is."

As he watched Miss Edmunds drive away, Jess couldn't help but think it peculiar that Miss Edmunds would have her mascara dry around her cheeks. He waved at her until she was no longer visible. Smiling to himself, he mouthed the words "proverbial diamond". Diamond, was now his favorite word. The pain in his feet seemed all but forgotten; he walked with a slight spring in his step. Past the bus stop, the empty Perkins place and turning right...home.

As Jess walked up the battered, overgrown, but still comfortingly familiar pathway to home. His heart sank as his eyes landed on the familiar pick up truck. His Dad was home. This by itself was not sufficient to dampen Jesse's mood. The company the pickup track had in the drive way was infinitely less appealing. A police car.

* * *

Thanks for reading!


	2. Life is Hard

Disclaimer: Doesn't belong to me, wouldn't want it to belong to me either, considering the circumstances that drove Katherine Paterson to write the book in the first place. The money would be greatly appreciated, though!

* * *

Transformed

Chapter 2 – Life is Hard

"If you limit your choices only to what seems possible or reasonable, you disconnect yourself from what you truly want, and all that is left is a compromise."

"He who strikes the first blow admits he's lost the argument."

* * *

18, 17, 16, 15, 14, Jess counted down in his head. What would he do if he only had 5 minutes to live? It was something he'd been asked in the playground a few years ago. He and the rest of the 2nd graders had been kicked off the "fighting hill", on account of them being too small. Bored and bristling with energy; they had had to make do with sitting in a circle beside the bins. Lord, it had been the only free place on the playground, such was the extent of the overcrowding at Lark Creek Elementary.

Someone had started (Jess couldn't recall his name) making up questions to challenge the rest of the circle: a "what if" scenario. Everyone had been asked the same question, given the task to make their answer the most impressive or theatrical. Eventually one of the leaders of the group, Gary Fulcher, asked the 5 minute question. Jess hadn't been able to really answer, so he had simply responded with an asinine joke that only May Belle would find amusing. The other guys had rolled their eyes while muttering "weirdo" before trying to push each other in the bins. What he'd really been thinking; there was no possible way for him to know what he'd do until he was in such a position.

Well, it may not take as long as five minutes, but he'd certainly not have long to live if he was caught now!

He cursed his stupidity for not asking Miss Edmunds the time. He had been a little preoccupied with admiring her... _keep focused, Jesse _he reprimanded himself. He could only hope that his sisters were in their rooms. Although knowing Brenda and Ellie... they'd most likely be glued to the T.V in the living room. If that was the case, he was done for.

Hesitating at the door, Jess breathed deeply while he turned the doorknob, slower than he ever had before... it wasn't locked, good. Maybe, if he was silent enough to negotiate the creaks in the floorboards, he could make it to his room. He winced at every noise the door made. He hadn't really noticed before but lord, it was loud. It seemed to groan with the strain of Jess pulling it open.

He peered into the living room, scanning for any signs of life. The T.V was off, a surprise, he would have preferred the noise to mask his footsteps. At least there was no sign of Brenda or Ellie. Judging by the popcorn covered carpet, they'd already been and gone.

The room was pitch black apart from a worn out lamp in the corner, glowing defiantly against the overwhelming darkness. It was all very unwelcoming. He closed the door quickly to avoid the groaning, while making sure not to bang it in place.

Okay, he was in... now what? Somehow, Jess needed to make it to his room. He turned from the door and looked straight ahead. He could see the stairs, they had never looked more appealing in his life. Just a little more. Crunch. He looked down... only the popcorn. Jess laughed slightly before he could stop himself, but it was silent enough not to worry him. His confidence began to rise, the house was deadly silent – they had to be sleeping, they just had to.

He felt like James Bond, dodging in between the pieces of popcorn like they were land mines. He was undercover, in enemy territory, trying to escape with a precious artifact: his life. Jess smiled, he had to admit, this was pretty fun, although he could do without the James Bond theme playing in his head.

Increasing his speed, Jess gasped when he stepped on something hard. Lord, the remote control buried under popcorn. The T.V turned on - loud. A familiar commercial rhythmic tune reverberated around the otherwise silent house. Jess froze, afraid his movement might wake up the household further

He stood there, waiting for someone to come running in, whether from the stairs or the kitchen. Jess could feel his heart thumping against his chest, it was almost painful. After a couple of seconds when he heard no movement, he let himself breath again. He was going to kill Ellie the next time he saw her. Every time, she just left that damn contraption on the floor it always, always, ended up planted on his foot... Jess, picked up the remote. It was undamaged, unfortunately. He switched off the T.V. He must've been wearing amour, for he felt like he'd just withstood a bullet shot!

"Hhhhhhhhhhmm, Mummy?" Something stirred in the room, the hair on Jess' neck stood up on end. How hadn't he noticed? Turning towards the noise, it was Joyce Ann, sleeping on the sofa in a fetal position. She was small enough to resemble a pillow. Why had his mother let her sleep here of all places! Hoping and praying to anyone that would listen, he tip toed to the stairs, pretending he hadn't heard anything. _Just go back to sleep, Joyce._

"Jesse?"

Lord, she was awake, rubbing her eyes and looking right at him. "Joyce, just go back to sleep, 'kay. Back to sleep."

She giggled at Jesse's desperate expression, obviously thinking it was some sort of game. The faint glow of the lamp was enough for the two to see each other clearly. He waved his arms wildly in a hushing gesture as she opened her mouth.

"Mummy- looking for you." She pointed her chubby forefinger at Jess.

"No, no, don't worry about Mummy," he whispered softly. Jess approached the sofa with ragged breath, trying to appear calm. What would shut her up... ah, he knew!

"Just, go to sleep for Mummy, okay, just sleep and... you'll get a – a nice present in the morning."

"A present?" Joyce repeated, eyes blaring with glee. He had her!

"Yes, but only if you go to sleep, 'kay." It was all going so well until he finished with, "Will you do that for me?"

Oh Lord, terrible choice of words. He could already see the wheels turning in that demented little head of hers as she mouthed his last two words.

Joyce Ann opened her mouth, he tried to silence her with his hand... but he was too late.

"Mummmy, Jesse home!" she yelled at the kitchen. Jess heard a sudden and downright dastardly movement from the kitchen, great, he was in for it now. He sat on the sofa with Joyce, resigned, giving her the remote, which she promptly began to chew on. As her teeth bashed on the remote, the television began rapidly switching channels before settling on a random music channel. It was already in the middle of the song "Highway to hell"... how appropriate.

"You, know," Jess said, conversationally to Joyce Ann, "sometimes, I really hate you". She smiled at her brother with an innocent expression.

"You don't fool me, Joyc-"

"Jesse!" His mother came rushing in, fanfare and all; she reached down to smother him in a hug. He wished he'd taken a deeper breath, Joyce Ann giggling in the background only added to his discomfort. She eventually let go, judging by his moist shirt, she'd been crying into his shoulder. He really needed those damn waterproofs!

His Dad joined the "party", police officer in toe. In the desperation to get to his room he'd forgotten all about the police car. He suddenly felt worse, if that were possible. Judging by his father's expression, he had some explaining to do. His mother's tear stained appearance changed ominously and without warning into anger. She took deep breaths, threatening to erupt at any second, even Joyce Ann was suitable timid.

"Where. On. Earth. Have. You. Been!" she shuddered after every word, as if she was desperately trying to remain in control of her rage. Lord, he needed to think of something quick!

"You better have a good explanation," his father spoke civilly, any outsider might think he was simply discussing the weather but Jess knew this was much worse. His father seemed to reside in a perpetual state of shouting, it was how he got his point across. Whenever he lowered his voice, it was the perfect indication that matters were deadly serious. Jess had only encountered this side of his father twice... when Brenda had been suspended from school, and later when she had brought a boyfriend over. There was something infuriatingly irritating about it, the perfect way to make the receiver feel in the wrong. It was much harder to argue with a cordial, civil and upstanding gentleman, than a foul mouthed, high decibel wielding father. His Dad doubled back to lock the door, Jess thought he merely wanted to lock him in.

"Aaahhh, so this is the infamous, Jess Aarons. I've heard so much about you." The police officer sat himself down on the chair opposite Jess, who had almost forgotten he was even in the room. Jess had never seen anyone so at ease in another man's home, although he guessed that that went with the territory.

"Just like I said, Mrs Aarons, they usually turn up in the end." He leaned forward, hands locked together in front of him, "I'm officer Harvey, by the way." He bowed his head towards Jess, although the gesture was partially blocked by Mrs Aarons domineering form, which remained hovering over the sitting Jess.

Officer Harvey sighed, he'd seen this situation countless times. Kid stays out, parents get worried; end result was usually an over reaction. It all breed from an inability to admit that your kids were growing up... and leaving you behind. The officer snorted, he'd went through it, and while he didn't claim to be a psychologist, he'd always had a knack for reading people. About the only thing he got the chance to read in his line of work.

Officer Harvey worked a hand over his stubble, he'd already informed the parents of the procedures. "Best let me handle this... just the formalities of course," he hastily added.

"We'll be in the kitchen," Mr Aarons said, he didn't look too happy about it, but he obviously didn't want to seem anything but a law abiding citizen; Harvey had seen his type before. Mrs Aarons was substantially more reluctant to leave, but after a little coaxing from her husband, she picked up Joyce Ann and...

"Nothing to worry about. You rung us up, so I need to do my job. A simple statement from this man and then I'll be out your hair, nae bother," Harvey interjected with a colloquial tongue, reading Mrs Aaron's thoughts. She gave one last fleeting glance to Jess, before she joined her husband in the kitchen.

"Aaaahhhh, now the grown ups have left, we can talk in peace." Harvey stretched his arms theatrically; yawning as he spoke. Jess remained silent, wary... there was something about this man. He seemed a bit too sure of himself, arrogant. It was a trait that Jess disliked vehemently.

"Now, what's this story about you running from school?"

* * *

"Stay out of trouble, Mr Aarons. Oh and watch out for your parents, if looks could kill. Your parents already filed for a missing person, I don't want murder as well!" Officer Harvey laughed sardonically.

Jess grimaced as he shook the police officer's hand, or rather the police officer shook his. Mr Aarons, Jess shook his head, it sounded too much like his father to sound anything but disturbing. Still, Jess had grown used to bottling up his emotions over the years. Without changing his neutral face expression, even for an instant, he waved politely at the police officer as he got into his car and left. Lord, he's the lucky one.

Jess knew his Dad had been waiting until Officer Harvey had left to begin the "festivities". It had been the same when Brenda had brought a boy over, for the first and only time. His father had acted dignified enough, with a suitable amount of decorum throughout the evening. The family had had a fairly pleasant and certainly normal meal. When said boy had left...well, Jess had been perceptive enough to know he was in "no mans land"; retreating to milk Miss Bessie early. The walls hadn't been enough to contain his father's bellows or Brenda's screams. He had seen, or rather heard, a side of his father that he had never imagined was there. It was his darker half, the cruel half. Jess shivered despite himself. He had never known what was the problem with the boy. He had never dared to ask. Jess had almost felt sorry for Brenda, even though he knew she wouldn't show any in return. And now it was his turn. Or at least it had seemed to have been his turn for the last 3 years. Jess laughed humorlessly. It had been his turn since the day he was born.

The police officer, for his part, seemed much more understanding. Although he had initially perceived him as arrogant, Jess concluded that the officer was just experienced to the point of complacency. Jess might have even grown to like him... if not for the circumstance he was currently drowning in. He had said his first name was, Matt, but Jess suspected it was merely a ploy to make him feel comfortable.

Matt had merely lectured Jess on the number of people currently missing, whilst reaffirming the dangers that lurked in the night. He had even given him a leaflet about missing people. The officer had seemed bored by the whole affair, as if this was a regular occurrence in his life. Jess could only remember small fragments such as "a person must be absent for 72 hours before being legally classed as missing". Trying to delay the inevitable, he looked at the leaflet:

_By the end of 2005, there were 109,531 active missing person records according to the US Department of Justice. Children under the age of 18 account for 58,081 (53.03) of the records and 11,868 (10.84) were for young adults between the ages of 18 and 20._

_During 2005, 834,536 entries were made into the National Crime Information Center's missing person file, which was an increase of 0.51 from the 830,325 entered in 2004 . Missing Person records that were cleared or canceled during the same period totaled 844,838. The reasons for these removals include: a law enforcement agency located the subject, the individual returned home, or the record had to be removed by the entering agency due to a determination that the record is invalid_

He hadn't really been paying attention, although in his defense, having the lecture interrupted multiple times by his father asking the officer if he'd like anything – while glaring threateningly at Jess, would be enough to make even Janice Avery quake in her sandals.

He crunched the leaflet into his pocket, remembering the dubious hole that had lost him his lunch money on numerous occasions; decided to carry it in his fist instead. Lord, if he waited any longer his father would be liable to drag him to the Creek and drown him, just like in one of Brenda's stories. He saluted the stars as he walked to the main door, resigned to his fate. He imagined criminals on death row felt similar sensations as they walked to their deaths.

"It's 2am on a school night, Jesse Oliver Aarons. What do you call this?!" And so the tirade began. Jess braced himself. His parents didn't even have the courtesy to let him close the door. Thinking of the courage Rodney had shown. Jess stared back at his father. Head held high.

"Well, are you going to answer me, where were you?" His mother obviously not content with watching from the sidelines, sat the sleeping Joyce Ann on the sofa before taking her turn.

"I-We, were worried sick. Where were you! May Belle came running home, after she was left alone on the bus, no thanks to you. Where were you! God, we even called the police. You better have a good-" she stormed up closer to Jess and suddenly smelt something. Taking another sniff, she realized it was from Jess. Getting close enough, she grabbed Jesse's jacket – and then dropped it just as quickly...as if it burned her.

"Is that..." she took a deep breath, obviously thoroughly appalled, "Is that...alcohol?" her voice increased ten decibels every syllable. Jess heard delighted gasps from the stairs. Already knowing who the perpetrators where, he looked around his mum to see Brenda and Ellie crouched down on the top step, waving mockingly at him. The staircase blocked them from the view of Mum and Dad. They obviously had come to see the show. Conveniently not hearing the gasps, his father said one word, as if that was all he could do in his current state,

"I would expect the courtesy of you actually paying attention for once, Jess. Explain?"

Lord, when his father was the quieter of his parents he knew he was in trouble.

Jess gulped nervously, he was tired and why did his head feel so heavy? Knowing there was no way out he began, stuttering. Lord, he hated being put on the spot like this.

"Emmmm, I was, eh, going to this-"

"Speak properly," his father rebuked. Feeling like he'd suddenly been cut down a few feet, Jess tried to regain the ability to speak.

"I was with a friend."

"What friend?"

"Hoa- Scott," he amended.

His mother looked unconvinced. "I've never heard or seen any – Scott before. Why do you never bring him over? Doesn't seem like much of a friend," she finished her sentence there, although Jess knew what was left unsaid. _As if you have any friends, really._

"I've only been friends with him for a little while."

She nodded, signaling for him to continue but he knew she didn't believe him. His father sat down on the sofa beside the "sleeping" Joyce Ann. He seemed to be trying to stare a hole through Jess.

"Well, he was taking me to see Mr Gotenburg, my P.E teacher, about joining the school racing team-"

"Why couldn't you do that in school, Jesse? And the school racing team, that hardly seems like something you'd be interested in", his mother interrupted... would he ever get to finish a sentence?

"Er, he doesn't work on, on Thursdays, so, so I, we decided-"

"Decided you'd just walk out of school, forget about your sisters?"

"No, I-"

"Where does this... Gotenburg live?"

"Somewhere in town." This seemed like the wrong thing to say. His father snorted derisively, shaking his head.

"You expect me to believe that you walked into town, that's miles away – I'm warning you, Jess. Stop lying to me." Brenda and Ellie chorused "lies, lies" from their position on the stairs.

"Would you two go to bed!" his father snapped at them. He was too distracted with Jess to enforce this, however, so they remained. He turned back to Jess, impatient.

"I've got work tomorrow, Jess. Yes, I have to provide for this family. Enough of these lies, the truth. Be a man... for once."

"I'm not lying," Jess said stubbornly. His father's words stung, piercing his army. He was getting angry, at himself, his parents – he could feel himself begin to shake.

"Not lying, not lying he says. Do you know what you've put your mother through? We thought you'd been kidnapped, we phoned the police, caused a fuss. Instead, we find you, stinking of booze, skipping school, coming home in the middle of the night."

"It isn't like tha-"

"Are you trying to embarrass me, are you trying to embarrass this family?"

"No, Dad. I – I'm sorry, I - "

"Do you know how this looks on this family, how it looks on me! I've dragged this families name from the dirt after... and you're just going to throw it all away... becoming some, some hooligan! After all I've done, the work I've put in, _this_, this is how you repay me. Are you trying to humiliate me Jess?" He pointed at the sofa Joyce Ann was sleeping on, "You see this. This costs money."

It always came back to that, the families image. No, that was incorrect, it was his father's image. He was so obsessed with work, image, friends – Jess didn't care. He wanted none of it. He felt himself begin to snap.

"Jess, what is happening to you?" his mother pleaded, "Your grades are falling, your teachers say you're not putting in any effort, you're falling behind on your chores; you spend _hours_ doing God knows what in your room, Jesse, just like... dear, talk to us", those last few words struck a nerve.

"That's exactly it. You never listen... I've tried, lord, I've tried, but it's either Brenda this, or Joyce Ann that, you never have any time for me. You act like you know me, like you understand, well, you don't know, you don't understand. I'm not Adam, no matter how much you wish I was or wasn't, I just..." he couldn't finish, part of him hadn't even meant to go that far.

Far from being surprised by Jesse's outburst, it seemed to push his father to new heights of anger. "Well, out with if then, tell us, the boy who thinks he's above this family."

"I'm trying, its just it's hard."

"It's hard, It's hard," his father echoed with disgust. "Is it hard explaining why you've come in drunk, into my house, stinking of booze?"

He had no right to lecture him about drink, considering the amount of times he'd heard him stumble through the door in the middle of the night.

"Life is hard, Jess. The sooner you realize it the better. If you want to survive in this world, if you want to be a success, then you need to be hard. We don't have the advantages others do, they look down on us, the inferior. No matter how hard you work, you'll have to work twice as hard as the next guy to get recognized. None of this living in the clouds - nonsense. This fantasy – you are not a kid anymore Jess, you need to grow up and fast. You know what..." Mr Aarons paced the walls of the living room, Jess had never seen his father talk like that, angry yes, but not like that. It was like he'd been a caged animal for years, starving on scraps, only now finally unleashed.

"I've let this go on long enough. You running around, head in the clouds – that isn't what a real man is supposed to be, damn it. I tried to be reasonable, I tried be fair. Well, now I'm going to punish this out of you. Summer vacation, forget about it. I'm sending you to your Aunts to work for her."

Even Brenda and Ellie had the decency to be shocked, but his father wasn't done,

"If I ever see you writing in that stupid notebook again..." he let the warning linger. The number of possibilities flooded through the air. Better to have someone guessing than name their fate. His father seemed drained of energy, he leaned against the wall, disrupting the portraits of fake smiles and manufactured happy times.

His mother looked pointedly at Joyce Ann as she spoke, slowly,

"I want you to go to your room now, Jess. And just think, just think about the example you're setting for May Belle and Joyce Ann, I -"

"I don't care about them!"

His mother slapped him. Hard. Jess stepped back in shock, ears ringing. He could barely hear Brenda and Ellie's shocked gasps; a mixture of surprise and jubilation. His Dad, for his part, looked as shocked as Jess. The commotion was even enough to wake up Joyce Ann, who had been sleeping on the sofa – or at least pretending to sleep. She began to wail softly at the night

"It's late," the patriarch of the family announced to the house, aware that Brenda and Ellie were listening in. He seemed so much older to Jess now. Lines very evident in his forehead, he seemed tired, weak.

He turned to Jess. "Tomorrow, when I get back, we will discuss the punishments – _alone"_. His father whispered the last word, only to Jess...who, if he had looked up would have almost been able to read the regret in his eyes.

"And would someone turn that damn T.V off," he bellowed in one final outburst; before walking over to the sofa in a weak attempt to help his wife calm Joyce Ann.

Jess stood there, still in shock, now demoted to an extra, once again. His ears ringing increased with every footstep his father took. He felt his cheek. It burned... in more ways than one. He could feel tears forming in his eyes. He needed to get out of here! Rushing for the stairs he took them two at a time. Jess crossed paths with the "deadly duo".

"I always had you as an idiot, _Jesse(_she almost spat the name_)_. But a lier, too - oh look, he's almost crying!" Brenda began, shrieking with glee.

"Such a poor, poor example, isn't he... as if anyone would want to be friends with you. You're weird." Ellie added in a supporting role.

"Yeah, that's your real name, Jesse. Weirdo." They snickered at their own "wit".

Jess did not dignify their jabs with a response. He stormed forward, making them move out the way. He'd been through worse today... so why did every word still sting? He kept his head down, his hands shaking in bailed fists. Lord, this day had to end at some point, didn't it? Their voices followed him mockingly, Brenda daringly shouted loudly, "imaginary friends don't count, weirdo".

Finally, he reached his door. Lord, it was jammed again. Was everything broken in this house? He kicked it in frustration, before shaking the doorknob like a madman. The door finally relinquished its death grip on the frame, he was invited into a darkened room. He made sure to give the door a light kick on the way in... just to remind it who was boss. Gasping with relief he almost fell through as he closed it. Leaning on the door for support. Finally alone, Jess let go of his restraints, the tears began to fall, at last.

"Je-Jess?" May Belle, the dumb kid. He wiped his eyes surreptitiously. He would _not_ cry in front of her. He put his mask on, locking his other self away. Jess sought out May Belle in the darkness.

"Why are you still up, I know you're still afraid of the dark," he snapped angrily and to the point, like his father.

"Am not afraid!" she bit back, although Jess could see her shivering under the covers.

"I'm, he corrected crossly. Why couldn't he stop picking on her?

He watched her shrink two sizes as she responded, fear evident in her voice,"You weren't here, So, I, I waited."

Ah, he remembered. Jess usually drew her something before she went to sleep. They were mostly just humorous little sketches. He'd have to explain the joke for her, but she laughed like an enraptured audience.

Jess paused for a moment, thinking, then he walked past her bed to his own, remembering his father's words. There would be no drawing tonight. He collapsed onto his bed, shrugging off his back pack, not bothering to change.

Jess stared at his ceiling, despite the darkness, he could picture his works that covered his small part of the bedroom. He had committed them to memory long ago. He vividly remembered drawing everyone of them. The journeys each drawing had taken him. Overcome with a sudden uncontrollable rage, he violently tore at them. Releasing a growl from the very essence of his soul as he destroyed them. As he destroyed his life.

Minutes later, he lay his head back on the pillow, panting for breath. Shreds of his life floated around him, floating down to the floor and through the crevice of his bed. Buried, never to be seen again. He looked up at his ceiling again. It was not only dark now... but empty. Turning and engulfing his face in his pillow, he could still hear, faintly, the muffled cries of May Belle. His old life. He knew what she wanted. Her night light was just out of her reach... and she was terrified of the dark. A part of him cried out. His old self. Help her. Go to her. Turn it on. Bring in the light.

He sat still until even May Belle's whimpers faded away. It was just like his father said. In this life... you have to be hard. As he slept, there was only darkness.

* * *

**26th June 2008**

Birrp birrip birrity, for so long that had been his alarm clock, the signal for the day. He stretched and peeked out of his window, which he hadn't bothered closing last night. He felt a fresh stab of anger hit him as he watched his father "retreat" - without even a glance or word in his direction. The final straw.

If his father wanted hard; he'd give it to him in abundance.

Jess nodded to himself in reassurance. He'd made his decision. He grabbed his beleaguered bag; contents strewn like mines across the carpet. He discarded all unnecessary possessions from his bag – better to travel light. He noticed his notebook was buried under the debris from his destruction last night. He smiled apologetically while picking it up. His notebook. The most prized possession he had at his disposal. Ironically, it was from his father. Jess recalled all the present disasters he'd suffered over the years. Lord, half the stuff his father bought him ended up not working!

Every year his father had become more and more determined to find a successful gift; getting bigger and more expensive as the years went on – but never once asking Jess what he wanted. Last year, his father had gotten him an electric car racing set. His father had grown more and more anxious as the week to his birthday began. He had even come home from work early and milked Miss Bessie for Jess. He recalled walking past the hut, sure he could hear his father cursing about " missing parts". His Dad had one of those triumphant "I'm a man" twinkles in his eyes as Jess had opened the present.

When the first car Jess tried flew off the track wildly smacking Joyce Ann right between the eyes. His father's eyes became downbeat and melancholy. Jess had tried to smile meekly and make the thing work. For his father more than him. Well, his face had began to hurt after more and more cars flew every-which-way so he had avoided his father's eyes for the rest of the day.

Last Christmas, his father had bought the cheapest thing he could find, forfeiting his own little game. A notebook. Jess had been unable to contain his excitement at the gift. Which went a long way to Brenda and Ellie dubbing him " weirdo".

Jess stroked the spine of his notebook soothingly, muttering soothing words. Coming to his senses, he ungracefully threw the book into his bag, while looking hastily around him flushing with embarrassment. Maybe Brenda and Ellie weren't far wrong!

Deciding it was best to move quickly, he picked up a torn piece of paper; leaving a message on his bed. It was nothing spectacular, nothing melodramatic; just a simple, concise statement of his intent: to leave.

Jess checked his bank on the desk next to his bed, more out of hope than expectation. He shook it, hearing very few jingles.

"Well, at least I have enough money to last me the rest of my life, unless I buy something". Throwing the bank, and what little money it contained, into his bag, he zipped it up and strapped it onto his shoulders. He was ready. Yet there was something stopping him.

Jess looked at the bed across from his own. The covers lay in a mangled heap and the only identification of the the owner was a hand, hanging over the edge. She was quite an "aggressive" sleeper. A lot like him. Jess felt like he owed her something, some small token of gratitude. Sucking up his courage, he approached the bed.

"May Belle," Jess whispered while shaking the bed lightly. A muffled grunt was the only response he got. Smiling to himself slightly, he lifted the covers to reveal her face. May Belle immediately shielded her eyes with her hands.

"Momma, it can't be time-"

"It's Jess," he interrupted. She immediately moved her arms to confirm it was him.

"Oh, it's you."

Jess winced, he had expected something like that. "May Belle, listen, about last night... well, I was a bit of a prat."

"You wus worse, you were Janice Avery bad". He opened his mouth to protest. Lord, Janice Avery bad?

But he remembered why he was there. "Yeah, I suppose I was," he laughed uneasily.

"Yeah, yeah, you was like Miss Bessie's po-"

"Now what a minute, I wasn't that-" but May Belle was too busy laughing to hear. Damn it, he laughed a little as well. After they'd regained their composure, a slight tinge of happiness lifted the air between them.

"I'm... sorry, really, about last night," he said it solemnly, a stark contrast to the laughter before. May Belle grinned back at him, a portrait of missing teeth shaped her mouth.

"It's okay," May Belle said brightly. Lord, she'd forgiven him just like that. She was amazing.

He wanted to say something to her then. How he was sorry he'd picked on her over the years. How he appreciated her taking his side. How he was proud she hadn't turned into another Brenda and Ellie – at least yet, anyway. She wasn't that bad after all. It wasn't something he could put in words, however. He satiated himself with simply smiling at her. "Get some sleep before school."

"What's that." She finally noticed his bag. "It isn't school time yet, where you going?"

"Oh nothing, just throwing out some old junk - chores." He managed not to choke on his words, to his relief.

He wrinkled her hair slightly, to which she complained weakly. Feeling that he'd lingered a little too long, he left; quiet as a mouse. As Jess reached the door he heard May Belle say - in between yawns - sleepily,

"See you... soon ... Jess."

He didn't answer as he closed the door tight.

Jess made no qualms about being loud as he descended the stairs, there was no May Belle to worry about now. Why should he tip toe like some criminal? They were the criminals, not him. He nodded his head quickly in reassurance. As he walked through the living room to the door. He was sorely tempted to give the T.V, Brenda and Ellie's life support, a "goodbye kick". He smiled pettily at the saliva covered remote, courtesy of Joyce Ann. "The deadly duo" would certainly not be happy.

Jess breathed in the beautiful morning air as he closed the door... for good. Jess had suspected he might feel a little hesitation at such a symbolic gesture, but it was the complete opposite. He felt like he'd just wiped something terrible unpleasant off his shoe. He closed his eyes and let the sun's rays take him. He was free. Free from it all. From his father's coldness to Brenda and Ellie being, well, Brenda and Ellie. He strapped his bag tighter as he straightened his back, feeling like he'd suddenly offloaded a great weight. Maybe he had.

He ran... not because he was scared, but because – he looked into the distance. Not just the short distance to the Perkins place, either. No, he looked beyond, further than ever before. There was so much. He couldn't possible reach it all if he merely... walked. He jumped over the fence that marked Miss Bessie's boundaries. He felt a sudden empathy with the old girl. She was imprisoned, much like he'd been before. The field between his house and the bus stop suddenly felt much bigger. Jess had a wild thought that if he didn't reach the main road as quickly as possible he'd wake up to find himself locked in his room.

The enticement of freedom and the sharp morning air helped him increase his stride. _I'll make it. You just watch Dad, I'll do it_. He repeated the mantra in his mind as he reached the Perkins place and thus the adjoining main road. He was faced with his first major decision, left or right. Grinning at the absurdity of it, and the fact that he was completely independent of any outside influences. He choose on a whim; to spite authoritarians everywhere, left. He was faced with what seemed like an endless road. Spiraling off into any and every direction. Jess gulped in nervous anticipation, almost jumping with excitement. "Here we go" and... he was off!

* * *

"Pray that your loneliness may spur you into finding something to live for, great enough to die for."

* * *

Thanks for the reviews Sharkie and Caellach Tiger Eye...


	3. A Start

Disclaimer: Actually, I'm secretly Katherine Paterson in disguise hoping for one last run...

Thanks for the reviews abeatticus, Sharkie and Caellach Tiger Eye!! Let me know what you think about the turn of events in this chapter. Sorry if it doesn't meet to your expectations.

Again, sorry this took so long. My other story was distracting me, anyway, I'll talk at the end. Read away!

* * *

Chapter 3 - A Start

"Real integrity is doing the right thing, knowing that nobody's going to know whether you did it or not."

* * *

He hadn't been running for long until Jess experienced his first contact with the outside world. A couple of drunken teenagers speeding down the highway beeping their horn at him. Jess was a little underwhelmed, he had expected his first encounter with the new world to be slightly more... memorable. Although considering he hadn't actually physically meet them, he was willing to brush it off as a misdemeanor.

Jess had to admit, after twenty minutes the "never ending" road lost a lot of its esteem. The only mildly interesting thing he'd encountered so far was a bird's nest... and even that was more of an excuse to stop and rest for a bit. Still, the new world, fresh and appealing... he just wished the journey wouldn't take as long as it seemed to be taking. Some people wouldn't go amiss either.

Jess continued his vigorous pace, hoping that something attractive and tantalizing would jump out at him. He was more confused than disappointed when he encountered Old Barker's stall. It was a complete mess. A plethora of cardboard boxes labeled in messy felt tip pen were scattered across the pavement as if they'd just landed courtesy of a hurricane. A dark material supported by an assortment of poles in all different shapes and sizes served as a makeshift roof. Jess winced at the stains on the cloth that served as scars or fragments of memory that this obviously very archaic material had acquired over the years; promising a thousand stories.

Jess moistened his lips as he looked over the stacked boxes, noticing a ragged – was that a sleeping bag? His mind quickly worked in overdrive. Old Barker... he couldn't be... living in this dump?

So distracted by the surroundings was Jess that he almost forgot about Old Barker himself. He was sitting on a battered oak chair that looked, quite literally, to be on its last legs. Old Barker was positioned right in the center of the chaos. Jess was disturbed to note that the battered possessions matched Old Barker's battered appearance. To think that someone could actually... in this wasteland.

Old Barker's eyes were open, although it appeared as if no one was home. They lacked the ardent fire that characterized Old Barker's countenance.

"This isn't the the road the bus takes," Jess thought aloud.

Old Barker jumped slightly, drowsy, he'd obviously been quite content until Jess had walked by.

"Nah, it is'nae," Old Barker slurred, not elaborating. He spoke like he was unfamiliar with the very function. Jess imagined that he probably didn't have much opportunity to make conversation away out here, so he'd probably just gotten used to silence.

"Er, why – are you here?"

Old Barker jumped again, looking at Jess, apparently surprised that he wasn't a figment of his imagination. He recovered quickly, scowling unabashed. "Damn kids an yer damn yellow menace; little girl in the back kep' throwin' things at ma stall, upset customers."

Jess blinked, having someone describe Janice Avery – he was in no doubt as in to who Old Barker was referring to; he'd suffered the bus rides as well – as a little girl was, well, it was just plain odd.

"So you moved, I guess," Jess said dumbly. Lord, he was terrible at this.

"Aye, you an' your ilk, driving me off, making life a misery. Is that how you get your kicks these days... I fight a war for the future an' it throws it in my face, huh?"

"Eh..." It was at times like these that Jess felt like he was part of a story, a very big story, with thousands watching – and thus criticizing – his everymove. Unfortunately, he had been the one who hadn't read the script, so he was left stumbling over his lines, hesitating, always missing the moment, the chance. They were like sand seeping through his fingers, there, and then gone before he had his chance to - do - something. They always alluded him in the end, it was like a constant game of cat and mouse, and he was on a losing streak that seemed infinite in length.

Just a dumb kid, that's what he was. Just a dumb kid who'd forgotten his lines.

"... See ya... then." He almost waved before he caught himself. Lord, Jesse, what was he? May Belle?

Old Barker didn't appear to hear him, too caught up in his own demons. "Dinnae you worry, am gonna make sommat o' myself. 'Course a traded in my watches – they were'ny sellin ya see. I'm gonna sell puppies the noo, hear it's a goldmine." Old Barker's eyes seemed to glaze over; he hiccuped loudly, going silent, fantasizing about 'goldmines' and proper beds with roofs that didn't fly away in the breeze.

"... Yeah... okay," Jess said, unconvinced about the prospect of a 'goldmine' in Lark Creek.

Jess practically ran from the creepy old man, deflated. His first encounter with the new world had brought to the stage all his glaring faults and weaknesses, Jess cursed himself angrily. He needed to stop acting like this. He needed to win for once. All the while, as he told himself this, he tried to convince himself that Old Barker hadn't been nursing a bottle of whiskey in his hands, and that the cardboard boxes didn't only contain whiskey bottles... Empty whiskey bottles.

First the worst, second the best. Jess repeated the mantra in his head, it seemingly had an energizing effect on him. He hadn't forgotten what he'd promised himself. He was going to show them all.

He ran threw the trees, ignoring the strange man's calls. He wanted to get off this road. Deciding that it was best to go back to the bus stop and find a road that wasn't so deserted, he cut through the fields that Ellie had taken him through when he was just a baby, when she actually tolerated him because he could play dressup. The only problem was it had changed a lot in the last 10 years. The wildlife was now overgrown, reaching Jesse's sternum, he couldn't figure out which way to go. The flies seemed to be everywhere, he swiped them away – tripped on a log, he needed to get out. He flung his arms wildly, trying to run in one consistent direction. Hadn't he seen that rock just a moment ago? He shook his head. Deep breaths, Jesse, just stay calm. Problem was, that was impossible. His heart seemed to want to escape the confines of his chest.

He kept running, running, not sure if he was actually going anywhere, but too afraid to stop and think.

He followed the noise of what seemed like a car, that had to be the road. Jess lowered his head to avoid the flies and stepped back onto the welcoming pavement.

As if on cue, a dot appeared over the horizon. It was a long clear road so Jess watched it travel wearily along, long before it got anywhere near him. He felt like the 4th July was currently taking place inside his stomach as he watched the man approach. Finally... the new world had arrived!

The man - he was close enough to decipher now - was walking blindly, with what looked like a map covering his face. The map was huge, dominating the man's outline, it certainly looked the worse for wear, as if the man had torn it in frustration. The mysterious man was holding it directly in front of him, arms outstretched to keep a hold of it. Jess was amazed the man could walk straight with the map obscuring his vision. Occasionally the wind would blow the massive map from the man's grasp, much to his displeasure.

He was obviously uncomfortable with using maps, Jess assesed as he watched him continually turn the map over as if he wasn't sure which way was right. The man continued walking at a sedated pass as they drew closer together. He was unlike anything Jess had ever seen before. He stuck out like the proverbial sore thumb. He was suited and booted with, from what Jess could see over the domineering map, matted and trimmed black hair with round glasses. Despite his gait, he looked very business like... not something someone would expect to find in Lark Creek, particularly in this heat. He didn't seem atall comfortable in the suit, either, although that could have well been because of the temperature.

As their paths crossed, Jess kept his eyes looking straight ahead, feeling shy. He wondered if the man had even seen him over the map. He was a little disappointed, they simply walked past each other... nothing spectacular there, and from what he could gather, there was very little life on this "endless road". It was completely different from the road to school, which was full of vegetation and passing cars. This road was narrow, bare and now somewhat ominous. What was that noise? Something falling. Jess turned round to see the man looking directly at him as he picked the map up from the ground.

"Salut," he smiled innocently.

Jess stiffened at the voice. Lord, wait a minute, he hadn't traveled that far... had he?

* * *

In case you hadn't noticed some people, actually most people, are idiots. Complete tools! Utter muppets. You know that bugs me, the use of muppets as an insult. I'll have you know that the muppets are a very intelligent creature. I mean who didn't love Kermit the Frog? That little green... frog. The haters are just jealous. Did you co-host ABC? Did you host Larry King? Have you got a goddamn TV star on the Hollywood Walk of Fame? Then again, I think Britney Spears is on there... although I thought I was supposed to leave her alone...

So you're still listening, hhhmmm, that's interesting. Usually people just give me a wide birth after a few lines. You know, it's amusing that throughout this whole goddamn diatribe, I haven't even reveled my goddamn name.

Yo, I'm Mark Smith. Pleased to meet you, except I haven't actually met you yet, but I'm working on it.

Another thing that bothers me: nicknames. Must people label everything they encounter with some butchered 'pet' name? I've even heard some goddamn girls name their tits, although that's not nearly as disturbing as some of the guys after gym. Junior just doesn't cut it with them...

So, anyway, my name's Mark Smith. Not Markie. Not Marko. Not M. Not Smithy. Not M.S and damn sure not Smudger. Seriously, just last week an ignoramus called my G. I mean G! What the hell does that mean? G. What's the connection. Where in the hell do you find a g in Mark Smith? Is it short for something... I don't know, maybe, G-string, G-spot? God help me if it's Ali-G. Je-sus Christ!

I'm indifferent towards my name I suppose. On one hand it's pretty common so I don't raise any unwanted attention. Unfortunately, whenever I give my name to a goddamn stranger, they always think I'm goddamn lying.

So, anyway – actually I've said that before, my goddamn teachers usually bitch at me for waffling. I still waffle.

On to the present day – hell yeah, that's a lot better – I'm currently numbing my ass off in this goddamn train to Lark Creek. The aforementioned destination is where I've been 'sent' by my parents to, actually I wasn't really paying attention to what they said. Don't get me wrong, they're nice people, more or less. They're just a little touchy at times, what with the whole 'we're disappointed in you, dear' act.

I was kicked out of my last school – it wasn't really my fault, honestly. My parents imagined that chucking me into some goddamn rich private school might give me 'focus'. Unfortunately for them, they hadn't counted on it being infested with utter pricks. Seriously, that idiot was just asking for a broken nose, maybe I went a bit far with setting off the old cannon next to the foreyard, but in my defense, it really looked like it was past it. How was I supposed to know it would set on fire? I had been the goddamn executive of the hockey team at the time, whatever the hell that meant!

So, I'm currently on the road to nowhere(Lark Creek), and this train is making some, shall we say, light protests to the driver – it grated on your nerves after a goddamn 4 hour trip.

Fortunately, I'm very good at keeping still. It's always something I've enjoyed doing. When I was a bit queer, I used to imagine that I was something like a snake or a shark. I would lull someone into a false sense of security before making them shit themselves. Works every time, never gets boring either. Gets it right up the pretentious, pompous, prissy - need another word beginning with P, damn it. Eh... pejorative? Not that that makes any sense in the context of the sentence, but who cares? I certainly don't.

Another thing you should probably know about me: I look older than I really am. The beginnings of a mustache has its perks. What! I'm not growing this for the good of my health, even if my father thinks so. Again, this has its perks. For one, thanks to the look, no one in this goddamn compartment has lifted an eye at a 12 year old traveling alone.

There was this annoying fat guy sitting beside me, blocking my exit... I hate to feel trapped. Why do I always end up with the fat guy? He was listening to his mp3 player, he'd put it on so loud that half the train could hear it. Inconsiderate bastard. It wouldn't have been so bad if the song was actually decent.

I was currently striking up conversation with this girl opposite me. She was the type that you didn't even think about getting in the sack. Not because she was particular bad looking, although she had an irritating habit of fidgeting every goddamn second. No, it would be like shagging your sister, not that I have a sister, but still, I can imagine.

She stuttered slightly whenever I looked directly at her, although at least she wasn't superficial, unlike the rest of the miserable bastards in this compartment.

Another thing that bugs me... Public Transport. I'm sure you've encountered it all before, the fat guy that just has to sit next to _you,_ crushing you against the goddamn window. The officious type that subtly sit their bag down beside them so you can't sit down. The big shots who sit at the back and won't shut the hell up. It was amazing, just how isolated everyone was from each other. It wasn't a forced isolation either. I'd put money on if the fat guy beside me collapsed and had a heart attack, the officious bitch who was currently pretending to read would simply walk over him to get to the exit.

Super - goddamn - ficial. It was pathetic really. I was half tempted to start jumping around, swearing like a mad thing, just to see if I could get a reaction.

"Erm, this is my stop," the girl said slowly, embarrassed with her father who was gesturing like a mad thing, urging her over. That was another thing I liked about the girl, she didn't pretend that her father wasn't an asshole, she just got on with it.

"Right." I wasn't the best at goodbyes, from my experience, they were always awkward, filled with a regret at what you had failed to achieve in your time together.

She seemed reluctant to go. "I... I enjoyed your music... you're really good. "

Christ, she was hovering over me, it was goddamn suffocating. She obviously expected me to ask for her number or something... like hell! I hate presumptuous people.

"Thanks." _Piss off, if you please._

Obviously disappointed, she mumbled, "Goodbye, Jamie."

Thank Christ I had the foresight not to tell her my real name. I hate clingy people, or needy people, hell, anything that ends in a 'y'.

There was a slight riff raff as stragglers came and went. This voluptuous vixen sat across from me, offering her cleavage like it was road sign.

"Hi, dear."

Christ! She sounded like my mother, well that's an instant turn off!

She pursed her lips 'seductively', she wore a little too much make-up in an attempt to recreate the 'glory days'. Sadly for her, the 'glory days' probably weren't as glorious as she liked to think.

I wasn't naive, I didn't just look older than I really was, I felt older. I knew exactly what she wanted, giving her a concise, monosyllabic reply; it spurred her on, gave her something to chew on.

"My name's Stacy, Stacy Fulcher, what's yours honey?"

What kind of name was Fulcher? I neither knew, nor wanted to know.

"Name's Kiss, Kiss MaCrack." I frowned over the table, giving off a warning signal.

She was oblivious to the signs. "Lovely name darling, so, where are you headed?"

Did I ever tell you that most people are idiots?

* * *

"Bonjour, jeune homme," the voice repeated. Jess wasn't sure exactly what it meant, but he certainly knew what language. Turning to follow the voice, he found the business man. His map had obviously fallen from his grasp, as he bent down to pick it up. His eyes were focused on Jess though, polite and gentle.

"Sont vous bon à l'utilisation des cartes?"

Jess looked at the man like he'd grown another head. Judging by the scorching heat, this was still definitely Lark Creek. Jess was a little afraid now, he hadn't imagined the new world to be so, well, new.

"Emmm, are you lost?" Seeing Jesse's confusion the man's eyes suddenly popped open like a fish.

He slapped his forehead. "Of course, sorry. Forgot where I was for a moment. Right, okay... America, North Virginia, Lark Creek... am I right?"

"...Yes, but why were you speaking French?" Sorry, Scott. This man definitely took top spot on the list of peculiar people he'd meet. The man rubbed a hand through his short cropped hair, laughing self deprecatingly,

"I'm not long back from a book signing tour across Europe. I'm one of those terrible people that like to try everything. If you think my French is bad, my German makes little babies burst into tears."

"You- You've been to Europe?" Jess was enthralled. Here he was standing next to a man who'd traveled the world. Who had stepped on the grounds of distant lands. Lord, while here he was, Jess Aarons, the boy who'd barely traveled out the state, never mind cross the Atlantic. He wasn't the only one of course. Only a few people in Lark Creek had the money or inclination to travel abroad. The only one Jess could remember was that one girl, he thought it had to be 3 years ago, who'd went to Edinburgh University in Britain. _This_ was what Jess had been hoping to find. Of course 'he' could have went abroad, but he didn't want to think about _him_.

"Yes, of course." The man shrugged as if it was no big deal. Jess was too eager to soak up this man's knowledge to be jealous.

"I've got a few fans in Europe – France in particular - that buy my books. I just ended my tour in Paris so I had few days to explore. Wonderful city, by the way, I'd definitely recommend it. Have you been?"

Jess put his hands firmly in his pockets. "No, I... suppose I haven't found the time."

Jess tried to sound convincing, he really didn't want this man to think less of him because he was poor and ignorant. Lord, he hated it.

"Yeah, it's a big world. Still, it is something special, good old Paris. 'The most romantic city in the world'," he put on an exaggerated French accent that even May Belle would get first time, "Still they definitely have more claim to that title than most cities. I mean, gosh, they've got in their midst – Notre Dame, Arc de triumph, the Louvre-"

"You've seen the Louvre!" Jess had only managed glimpses at a few scarce pictures of breathtaking beauty in the old broom closet at Lark Creek that substituted for a Library. It had completely blown Jess away. To think that such a place existed... lord, he got giddy just thinking about it. Jess suddenly had a revelation. If he only had 5 minutes to live, he'd be honored to live them proudly in the Louvre. Now, if he could convince Miss Edmunds to join him...

The man nodded earnestly in agreement. "Yeah, the Louvre is something special. It's just so big (he stretched out his arms in emphasize), pity I only had a couple of hours to see it. I'd like to go back, someday. Just... get one of those yearlong passes and lose myself in it."

"It must be the most beautiful place on Earth". The words were out before Jess could close his mouth. Lord, way to make yourself look stupid, Jess.

To his surprise, the man looked up to the sky as if in deep contemplation, and nodded. "Certainly a contender, minus the crowds and the gift shops. Yeah, good call."

Was that a compliment, lord, this man was full of surprises. He was currently in the process of tapping his chin thoughtfully when the map blew from his hand. "Oops!"

Jess leaped and managed to catch it before it flew onto the road. Why couldn't he do that in P.E!

"Thanks, eh..."

"Jess Aarons"

"Lovely to meet you, Jess." He motioned to shake hands and Jess offered his but the map wobbled precariously in the man's one hand, so he stopped.

"Yeah, better not," said the man jovially; they both laughed as he tried to fold it up. It was like a wild animal. Another passing car beeped at them as it drove past. Jess sighed, were these people all Lark Creek could produce, he felt embarrassed as he watched the man scrutinize the car.

"Wish, I had my car."

"Huh, what happened?"

"Broke down 4 treacherous miles back. Judy was always adamant that I should get a new car, but well I get attached."

"Who's... Judy?"

"Oh sorry, how rude of me, Judy is my beautiful and occasionally recalcitrant wife." This seemed to lift his spirits as he broke out into an even brighter smile. "Best thing that ever happened to me."

Even Jess, with his gigantic naivety, could tell the deep love the man felt for this women.

"We have a daughter, too, she's about your age I think, I'm sure you'd get along, she has the temerity of her mother though, so watch out!"

The man studied the map until his nose was almost touching it. "Sorry, what street is this?"

Jess raised his eyebrows and the man laughed sheepishly. "I'm not very good at directions. D-Don't tell Judy I said that... I'd never live it down," his eyes seemed to cloud for a moment, as if in memory. Jess found it strangely refreshing that this man was willing to reveal his flaws. His Dad considered it a weakness, but...well, Jess wasn't so sure now.

"So... where are you going?"

"Sorry – I seem to be apologizing a lot – I'm currently house hunting, although said house seems to be quite elusive, the timorous beastie. I managed to call the estate agent, he's coming to pick me up promptly. He can be a bit absent minded at times though, so I have the unenviable task of 'jogging' his abysmal memory. "

Jess had never encountered someone who spoke quite like this man. "Why are you walking then?"

"I couldn't just sit in that broken down vehicle doing nothing; it would drive me mad. Better stay efficient with my time – that's the plan. I told him to simply drive as normal and he'd encounter me soon enough. Enough about me, care to reveal a little of your own journey? Where are you headed?"

"Well, I dunno, I didn't really plan it, I guess I'm just gonna see where my feet take me, I guess."

"Seems like you're running to me," the man said bluntly on impulse.

"What do you know! You don't know me, no one understands. I'm-"

"Easy, Jess, I was just calling what I saw. I wouldn't be a very good writer if I changed that. Didn't mean anything by it. Maybe Judy was right, I should work on my tack," he laughed, trying to lighten the soured mood.

His words had left an uncomfortable feeling in Jess. "I'm not, I'm, I'm not running away," he said slowly, deathly quiet. "I'm starting afresh, a new slate, I'm making a change, doing good, they don't understand me. A new life. It's better this way."

The man studied Jess closely. "Doesn't seem so appealing when you have no one to share it with," he smiled a sad but knowing smile.

"I don't need anyone," Jess was even quieter than before. The man nodded, as if he had expected that recourse.

"That's what I thought." The man wasn't simply smiling now, his face bore a full fledged grin, as if he were replaying a cherished memory. He ruffled his hair, licking his lips before continuing, as if he was an actor riling himself up.

"But what life really is, what really enriches life, is the sweet burden of being needed. To care for something not only because you want to, but because they want you to. The end of art is peace, in this world, this chaotic world where nothing makes sense, it gives your life a purpose. And you know what the best part is?" He talked like a man who'd been through it all, and was now reciting his findings to the next weary traveler.

There had been far too many words for Jess to fully grasp what the man was saying, but he couldn't shake the feeling that this was important, somehow. "What?"

The man outright laughed now, almost inappropriately happy. "It makes you feel great. That's something they taught me."

Lord, this man was strange... but in a nice way. An incessant beeping from an alarmingly close proximity broke their converse. He watched a car window slide down automatically. The pick up truck certainly didn't do that!

"Thank goodness sir, I told you to stay put!"

The man broke from his spell and shrugged unapologetically at the driver. "Sorry about that."

The driver shook his head exasperated. "I don't know how your wife copes. The house is close by, if you'd like to see it before Christmas?"

The man held his hands up in a conciliatory gesture. "Okay, okay, I'm sorry, really-"

"You expect me to believe that?"

The man sighed. "No, not really." He turned to Jess, his eyes soft, staring at Jesse's bag.

"Sometimes it's hard knowing if you should or shouldn't do something, so you do what feels right at the time. Just remember, Jess, that isn't necessarily the right thing." He then broke into another laugh, and Jess got the impression that he spent most of his time laughing. Jess wished he could be the same.

The man got into the car, still talking, this time in a lighter tone. "Who knows anything when it comes down to it, I don't, I like to pretend I do sometimes, but, I don't."

"You're certainly not wrong there," the driver muttered.

The man voiced his protests, but it was half-hearted at best. "You know you love my way with words, Claudio."

"More like useless rhetoric to me," the driver muttered again as he started the engine, but he was smiling despite himself and Jess realized that they must have enjoyed bantering with each other like a tandem of old married bickering couples.

As the engine gave a loud belch of life, it brought Jess to attention. "Excuse me, I never got your name?"

The man slapped his forehead, blushing. "Once again it seems I must apologize. My name is William Rubek," he said on instinct.

As the car began to move, he waved at Jess, urging him closer. "Do you have a family, Jess?"

"... Yeah."

As the car drove away, Jess was sure he heard him yell, "You're lucky!!"

Jess stood, stunned as the car drove off into the obtrusive sunrise. Lord, that was the first time that _anyone_ had ever called Jess Oliver Aarons lucky. Lucky. He began to laugh at the thought, almost in spite of himself.

"Lucky, huh," he chortled, laughing the laugh of a boy who'd just discovered a different perspective on life. He looked at the long, glorious never ending road. Holding countless adventures and experiences at a tantalizing arm's reach. Then Jess looked back the way he came, back to the dour and dull Lark Creek. His irritating sisters, his uncaring family. He thought of what awaited for him there: school, gangs, teachers, bullies, poverty and deprivation... Home.

Jess wiped the sweat from his brown, biting his bottom lip, still grinning self deprecatingly. Home. Lucky. He'd made his decision. As Jess ran, he wondered if he would ever encounter that man again. He smiled to himself. Hopefully in the Louvre.

* * *

Tighter. Tighter.

Wonda Kay inspected her chest in the mirror, shuffling slightly to the left to get a better profile. No. Tighter. Tighter. She heard the strain of the material, a slight unnoticeable tear appeared at the chest area. She cursed Madison and her big breasts. Making her look inadequate. Her!

Hearing the incessant beep of a car horn outside, Wonda gave the shirt one last pull for good measure before rushing out.

Her mother tapped her fingers impatiently, leaning on the family car, before giving her the once over – again!

"Pumpkin. Dear. Are you trying to look like an ugly whore?"

"Yes." Wonda deadpanned, thoroughly immune to her mother's diatribes by now.

She plopped herself down in the backseat, studying her reflection in the windscreen.

"Jacob, for Gods sake, be late if you want but don't make me suffer as well!"

Wonda's father stumbled out the front door, holding his briefcase tightly in front of him. His appearance was so rushed and haggard that it looked like he'd just wrestled off a pack of wolves with his bare hands.

"Yes, honey. Sorry, honey," he said through gritted teeth.

Wonda saw it before it happened. Another chance for her father to humiliate her. In his rush to get to the car, he tripped on the sidewalk, connecting face to face with a foul stench of mud. He spluttered it out, choking, still clutching his suitcase in a death grip.

Her mother simply shook her head in a contemptuous act. She looked half annoyed, and half resigned to not expecting any better from her lummox of a husband.

"Get in," she yelled with venom.

Her father nodded getting into the passenger's seat. He struggled with his belt, finally clicking it into place after almost tearing it off its hinges.

He turned to Wonda. "Here, baby, do you mind holding this?"

He presented her with his muddy suitcase, dropping it in her hands before she could utter a retort. He turned back, completely unaware of the position he'd put her in. Idiot! As they drove, each resident in their car preparing for another miserable day of work or school, Wonda looked at her lap covered in the residue mud from the briefcase. How on Earth would she survive school in this?

"Mum, can we drop by the super mall?"

* * *

Jess yawned tiredly, passing the chickens who he'd no doubt have to feed in Brenda's absence again. The grass tickled his knees, Jess would have to be getting on with cutting that soon as well. The sheer weight of the chores he had to look forward to weighed him down in every sense of the word. That wasn't even counting milking Miss Bessie, or the blasted greenhouse Jess thought grimly.

He had his hands tucked in his pockets as he entered their home. He smiled sagely. Lucky, now there's a thought.

Jess decided to treat himself to the last remnants of Miss Bessie's last milking session. No doubt Brenda would bitch at him during breakfast, but Jess couldn't muster the effort to care.

He was slightly surprised to find his mother by the sink washing last night's dinner; this time a chore Ellie had 'forgotten' while she had been doing her homework. In Ellie's world, that equated to watching T.V. His mother was never usually up this early. It was a bad omen, he decided.

She turned as he walked in. "Jess, I-"

"I'll do them after school," he said tiredly, losing his appetite for milk. Perhaps he could sleep for what little time there was before the bus arrived, or better yet draw.

He made to leave, but his mother's voice stopped him. "Jess, we need to talk."

Jess winced, lord, he'd been dreading this. He could count the number of times she'd said that to him on one hand, the result was always disastrous for him. He remembered only vaguely the argument last night. It was as if it had all been a really vivid nightmare, a distant memory that he would never reclaim. He had went too far, said too much, Jess decided. It was easier, just staying silent.

He had long ago realized that he couldn't compete with Brenda and Ellie's explosiveness, or the babies fragility and dependency on others for attention. Rather than fight a losing battle, he kept silent in the hope that he would avoid any unnecessary wrath. Life was more peaceful that way, quieter, simpler, he could almost live with it. Almost. He was forced to remain in the proverbial middle, not old enough or cute enough. No, Jess shook fiercely, he wasn't in the middle. He'd been thrown out long ago – after him...

"If it's about last night, I'm sorry about what I said," he droned, woodenly. That should be that. His mother would just let herself forget abou-

"Sit."

_Lord, _this was bad!

Now Jess was really surprised, he'd never heard her like this before. He sat down as far away from her as possible, half afraid that she would bite him.

His mother was studying her hands, as if she were waiting for the words to flow. "Did you really mean what you said – last night?"

"No, of course not, I was just acting stupid again. I'm sorry," he said automatically, his face emotionless.

She seemed to slouch at his words, as if they weakened her. "How did we come to this?"

"What?"

"We can't even say two words to each other anymore."

"And whose fault is that?" The words were out before he could stop himself.

They were like a fiery bullet of anger directed at her, and his mother looked at him, really looked at him for the first time in so long, just him. She was looking at a stranger.

"Jess, I, I don't understand."

"Exactly, you never can, he never can. Not because it isn't possible, no it's because you both have bigger priorities. I'm not important, am I, I just get the left overs."

"That isn't true, you are important, Jess-"

He remembered the promise he'd made to himself. About being more assertive. "Oh, really, do you want proof? Not even three days ago, Brenda, asks to go out. You say no, oh wait, she still gets out somehow. Brenda asks for money, you say no, oh wait, she gets the money as well. You say be home by 10, she says no, oh wait, she doesn't come home till 1am. Brenda gets home, do you shout at her, do you punish her, no, you treat her to hot chocolate and discuss the clothes she bought with the money she wasn't supposed to have. Who was left to do the chores, hmmm? Did the ironing get done by itself? Or did you just ignore it, let good old Jess do it, no one will notice?"

"But Brenda said that you-"

"Mum, not everything the girls say is true. Just in case you didn't notice."

"She was stressed, she has exams, and."

"Well, what about what I feel. How do you think I felt like when I was the only one in my class whose parents didn't turn up for parents evening because Ellie's was on the same day. Do you know how that made me feel, sitting there on my own, surrounded by kids with parents that actually gave a damn about them!" he was shouting now, but he couldn't bottle it up any longer.

"I had no idea."

"No, you don't."

Jess was exhausted, he had almost become lost in his emotions, as years of neglect, years of 'next times' and 'tomorrows' boiled over. It made him feel sick with nausea, he rubbed his temple, unsure about everything, anything.

His mother laughed humorless, eyes tinged with regret. "I suppose we haven't been very good parents to you, have we? When the girls are at their loudest, you just seem to get lost in the shuffle, don't you? Maybe I should have tried harder, no, I should have tried harder, but, I think... I know it isn't an excuse but its been difficult, after what happened with Adam," she took a couple of deep breaths to compose herself, determined to keep the promise she'd made to herself long ago to never cry over him again. Jess was stunned, that name was taboo.

"It still lingers in this house, I can feel it. Sometimes I wake up and imagine he's still here, imagine that we aren't a broken family, missing a piece... You two, you're so alike, it's almost frightening. You-"

"We're not the same," Jess spoke with a passionate vehemence. It always came back to this, would he forever be in his shadow?

Her mother smiled grimly, eyes wide. Jess was sure he heard her whisper something before continuing.

"I guess what happened last night brought back memories for all of us. That was how it started, with him- Adam. He'd stay out late, make up excuses that I don't even think he thought would work. He'd stay locked up in his room, not talking to anyone, not caring. He was so bright at school, I was so proud of him; we ignored the signs, it was my fault-"

"It wasn't-" Jess started, not sure why he wanted to defend her, but she waved him off. She needed to finish it, this was her catharsis after so long, serving her penance.

"We turned a blind eye. Kidded ourselves, we just couldn't see the truth. Maybe we didn't want to see it. And then he was gone. I – I wonder sometimes, where he went, if he's safe. Even now, everyday, the hel- I, " she shook her head," he even, even left a note, about us, it, it was-"

She stopped in mid sentence, stammering, eyes watering, sniffing. Jess had a sudden urge to wrap his arms around her, to protect her. She was his mother after all. You only got one. Jess was not nearly as merciful as his mother. Wherever he was, Jess hoped that he was suffering the same pain his mother felt everyday.

"It was so hard, moving on, like nothing had happened. I wish that he would come back more than anything, but we moved on, we had to," she paused again, her breathing erratic. "We acted like he'd never existed, took away all the pictures, locked them away. I – sometimes – forget what he looked like, forget, and then you walk in, and... it's like a replay, it's a black hole in this family, hovering over us."

After a few minutes, her shaking subsided. "...Your father thought we'd been too soft on him. That's why, with you, he thought we needed to be stronger, make sure we didn't make the same mistake twice..."

"What about you?" Their eyes meet as he spoke, and then Jess realized that they weren't as different as he had cared to believe. She too tended to concede to Brenda and Ellie the unwinnable battle. She too walked with the same gait, like she'd had the fight ripped out of her.

"I would do – anything - I don't think – I won't – I can't, can't lose another son." She barely managed to finish the sentence before she broke down, completely. The tears fell like a flood, she sobbed into her hands, cursing her own weakness. Jess found himself hugging her, she clung back with all she was worth, desperately searching for an anchor, something to keep her afloat in the ocean of her misery. It was amazing how perfectly they fit together, the warmth of her body on his. Mother and son had never been closer, not in the whole rest of their lives. As they stood there, Jess realized how selfish he'd been, how close he'd been. Had Adam felt this way? Had... no, it didn't matter what he had felt, Jess could only focus on the present - and the future – with her.

* * *

Jess lost his grip on time. Eventually he detached himself from her grip, sitting back down in his seat, emotionally exhausted.

He looked at her, noticing she was oddly pale, she was moving her right hand in front of her face, as if she was testing if it was really there.

"Are you okay?" he asked, concerned.

She quickly dropped her hand. "Of course, yes, just a little dizzy."

Jess grinned apologetically. "Yeah, sorry, I guess I should've had that shower this morning."

She chuckled, no doubt remembering Brenda's constant complaints... it was hard to forget with her decibel level! She brushed the hair away from her eyes, correcting herself. "I've been getting a few headaches recently, but it'll pass."

He nodded in understanding, not sure where to go from here.

He started, "I guess, I better go-" but his mother shook her head obstinately.

"You said that I don't understand, that I don't listen. Maybe that's the case but, well, I'm listening now, Jess. If you'll let me."

Jess frowned, uncertain. "I'm not gonna say everything is forgiven..."

She nodded reluctantly. "I just - could you give me a chance?"

A chance? Wasn't that what he'd always wanted - a chance?

"Yeah, I think we can try."

And so they talked. Just talked. About school, the family – everything and anything. Jess began to realize that he might have more in common with his mother than he ever thought possible.

"You – liked to... draw?" Jess was dumbfounded, his mother – who'd have thunk it. He could no more imagine his mother as an artist as he could imagine Brenda actual doing her homework on time, or Mrs Myers busting out the old drum set and forming a band with Miss Edmunds. Lord, even Joyce Ann not crying for a day was more likely.

"Well, I enjoyed painting mostly," she was blushing, slightly abashed by his reaction, "it was always my dream to go to Venice."

"What stopped you?" he said, immensely curious.

She frowned, deep in memory. "I wasn't always like this. I was young once; Mary Butler. An art schoolgirl who wanted to study water colors in Venice, paint the gondolas," she sounded as if she were reading an epitaph.

"I... met your father – and – then Adam and Ellie came and I..." She cut herself off, as if she herself was unsure of the real answer, or maybe just didn't want to admit it, to accept it.

It was at that moment that Jess realized that, perhaps, one of the reasons they'd become like 'this', was because he hadn't tried. So many times he'd pined for his father's love and attention, almost to the point of begging for something, anything. Yet his mother was just there, in the background, not fully part of it, but too far in to run away – like Jess himself. He'd never really made the effort, he'd just seen her as, well, the housewife, his superior who ordered him to do specific chores. He'd just painted her with the same brush as Brenda and Ellie, as if they were one in the same, a package. It had been staring him in the face for so long, why hadn't he realized? Lord, sometimes he really could be a dumb kid.

He supposed his father had almost an otherworldly quality to him. He was hardly here, either out working or with his friends. Whenever he was here, he usually sprawled himself out on the sofa, too knackered to move or communicate with anyone. The few short sporadic times when his father's attention was available was like an open competition between Jess and his siblings. They all wanted what they couldn't have, while his mother was probably standing in the corner, washing the dishes with an envious glint in her eyes. She was the one that had to be the parent, living with them, disciplining them, while his father could waltz in, to spoil and charm.

"Oh, look at the time, I need to finish the dishes, quickly!" His mother jumped up, startled with herself for wasting time when there was a house to support. She was brushing him off, Jess knew. But it was in a gentle, circumvent way. It didn't annoy him, he realized now that he couldn't expect too much too soon. One conversation wouldn't suddenly fix twelve years of growing separation. There was still a long road ahead. But it was a start. The first step he was ecstatic to take.

As Jess motioned to close the door, his mother began humming melodically as she dried the dishes. She seemed brighter now, radiant, upbeat. He was seeing her in a completely different light, he realized. For so long he had imagined that this couldn't possible be his real family. He had often dreamt that he'd been kidnapped, stolen away from his real, glorious and majestic family, who mourned for their stolen son even now, hoping for his return.

Mary Aarons was his mother. And he was glad of it.

Noticing that he was staring, she looked over her shoulder. She gasped slightly, remembering something.

"Oh, and that punishment, what was it, not going on summer vacation – forget about it."

Jess didn't walk up the stairs to his room, he floated.

* * *

"Took your time!" May Belle said, arms crossed.

"Yeah." Lord, she didn't know the half of it!

"You don't have anymore chores?" she asked, suddenly excited.

Jesse's mind couldn't have been further away from the sheltered domestic bliss; where washing dishes was considered corporal punishment. Chores? Lord, he'd had his fair share... he expected to have a fair few more.

"Later."

May Belle's face erupted into glee and she pumped her fists triumphantly. "Then we can play, come on Jess! Please, pleas, please..."

She was never going to stop until he conceded. He sighed, "... Uh, okay, as long as it doesn't take too long, school starts soon."

Jess was almost afraid to add. "So... what do you want to play?"

May Belle jumped out of bed. She scampered over to her cupboard, leaving various clothes in her wake as she hunted for her prized play things.

She suddenly spun round, clutching what she had been searching for. Two dolls, or rather, two Barbie dolls.

"Let's play Extreme Dress-up Barbie!" She waved the Barbie's wildly around her like bottles of champagne in a victory parade.

Jess slapped his forehead, sighing with resignation. "Oh, Lord."

Jess found himself kneeling down next to a toilet, across from his little sister. May Belle, for her part, was cackling like a deranged scientist who'd just given life; hair tussled out every-which-way.

Jess winced as water sprang into his eyes, courtesy of another Barbie 'crash landing'. They were already thoroughly soaked to the skin; Barbie's obviously weren't made to entertain water.

May Belle was currently on a destructive rampage. Jess must have been getting sentimental in his old age because he actually felt a modicum of pity for the dolls as May Belle thumped them against the toilet seat like a hammer. One of the Barbie's heads uncoiled, hurtling across the bathroom skyline. Jess managed to duck in time, instead slamming his head onto the toilet. It was like a war zone!

Jess huffed, rubbing his head as his little sister was too absorbed in her killing frenzy to even bother checking on his well being. "May Belle, eh, remind me never to get on your bad side."

May Belle paused from her 'make over', looking up, eyes demented. "Can we do Joyce Ann next?"

They both heard footsteps coming from Ellie's room. "Quick," Jess urged. If they were caught doing this again, they were in serious bother.

In her hast, May Belle slammed the toilet seat down on the Barbie, tearing it in half. "Oops," she said weakly as the other half fell down the toilet.

"Come on!" Jess grabbed her hand and they miraculously made it back to their room without encountering Ellie.

They inspected the Barbies. "Well, now you have one and a half Barbies, May," he assessed.

Later, after Ellie's shrieks that the toilet was jammed awoke the world, and after she'd been thoroughly teased by Brenda for 'blocking the loo', Jess helped May Belle tie her shoes while they got ready for school; his mind wandered. He realized... his father was right. Life was hard... but that didn't mean he had to be too. He, Jessie Oliver Aarons would not be hard. He couldn't be. It was a start, a fresh start.

* * *

Wow, my longest chapter so far. It could use a bit of work, but I think it's okay. I feel like Jess' mum gets a raw deal sometimes. Everything revolves around Jess' dad and she is added as an afterthought.

If you think the whole Adam thing came out of the blue, it was touched on in the last chapter in the 'argument'. Jess even mentioned his name. Just remember that it has been engraved in the family to forget about Adam, Jess doesn't want to even acknowledge his existence, that's why he hasn't really been in Jess' train of thought. Also he was before May Belle and Joyce Ann's time, so they don't even know who he is.

I should probably say right now that this whole section is more like a prologue. The real story will get moving when we fast forward 2 months to the end of summer in chapter 6. You might think that things are looking up for Jess, but, well, life doesn't work like that. Things are going to get very dark before someone makes their appearance. Think back to the first chapter. I'm a bit nervous about writing one scene in particular - it could get a little violent.

I hope you didn't mind me putting in a few new characters in there. Just remember that this is still Jess' story; they are only supporting characters who - hopefully - enrich it. Sorry about Mark's language, but I wanted to create a contrast between Jess and him. I won't write in his perspective often so don't worry about that.

I'm going to produce a trailer for this story soon as well. I have to produce a trailer for something in Media Studies, might as well kill two birds with one stone. I just have to find people that look like the new characters (sigh).

Would you prefer if I wrote shorter chapter with quicker updates, or are you happy with making my fingers hurt from typing so much?

Gosh, it's 4:12AM, really need to get to bed. Anyway, thanks for reading, and sorry if it wasn't up to your expectations. Bye!!


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